


From The Land Of Milk And Honey

by lesbianferrissbueller



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (but nothing bad happens), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Parenting, Billy Hargrove is less of an asshole, Billy Hargrove-centric, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blow Jobs, But still an asshole, Comeplay, Everyone Is Alive, Falling In Love, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Fluff, Fourth of July, Gay Billy Hargrove, Homophobic Language, Hook-Up, House Party, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Or at least not a slow one, Period-Typical Homophobia, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Sexual Experimentation, Smut, Summer, Switch Billy Hargrove, Switch Steve Harrington, cmbyn vibes, fast burn, i swear this is an uplifting fic, its in his nature, this is the Light Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22447792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianferrissbueller/pseuds/lesbianferrissbueller
Summary: Light Universe where Billy's mom took him with her when she ran off. He grows up out and proud with people that support him until things go wrong at home in California, and he has to live with his estranged dickhead dad in Indiana for the summer, before he turns 18. It's not all bad news though.He meets Steve Harrington.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 223
Kudos: 588





	1. You're Not In California

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to @grabmyboner and @keysmashdnp i could not have done this without y'all.  
> no one even has to read this, it just makes me happy that i wrote it :)  
> yay!
> 
> oh also its my birthday! this is my b day present to me
> 
> pin board: https://pin.it/hy4vxqevsdenve  
> playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3mId5YRMIcI6DdAB01xku5?si=DA7xrjnaSqCAcrCS4Kz1eQ

_ June, 1985 _

“I’m not fucking going.”

Billy’s mom pursed her lips. “Don’t curse so much-”

“Why? Why not, mom? It’s a pretty fucked situation. Why do I even have to go?”

“The judge said-”

“I don’t care what the judge said! I’d rather be arrested.”

“I would rather that too but you wouldn't be arrested, we would be fined and we’re not making rent as is, sweetheart.”

Billy groaned, leaning back in the chair next to his mom’s hospital bed. 

“I hate him so fucking much,” He mumbled. 

His mom laughed a little. She knew who he was talking about. 

She scrunched her fingers through Billy’s blonde curls. “I hate him, too. Remember,” she turned Billy’s face back towards her. “If he tries anything we've got legal action we can take once summer's over.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Just, maybe,” His mom looked him up and down. “Lay low, while you're there.”

“You mean try to be less of a fag?”

“Don’t call yourself that, baby.”

“No one said being a fag was  _ bad _ .” Billy grinned at her a little.

She sighed.

Billy’s mom would only be in the hospital for a few more days, if that, and only in rehab for a couple months. Not even the whole summer. But since she’d OD’d a lot of government people had gotten involved and the only way she could keep him until he was 18 was if he stayed with his dad while she recovered. 

Billy loved his mom more than any other person in the world. She was a good person and she really tried, he was sure she was trying, but she was a shit mother sometimes. He had to keep reminding himself of that, the social worker said he should. Only shit mothers get addicted to painkillers.

But what kind of mother was it who’d take you with them when they escape their piece of shit husband and run away to Santa Cruz?

Probably a pretty ok one. Maybe.

But maybe things would start getting better now. Even if they had no money and no house and no nothing to their names except Billy’s Camaro which he’d suggested they sell a million fucking times but his mom always said no. 

“I don’t even  _ need _ the car, Mom.”

“Yes you do, I know how much you care about it.”

He had taken that very car out to Indiana, drove the thirty plus hours in as much time as possible because the less time he had to spend with his dad the fucking better. 

But when he drove through the podunk town of Hawkins, pulled up in front of the house, double checked the address, and knocked, his dad didn’t answer, even though he braced for it. 

A girl did. A kid, too, must have been like fourteen. Bright red hair, freckles, and the most sincere scowl he'd ever seen. 

“Are you Billy?” She asked him. Californian as well, by the accent. He’d noticed the voices of gas station clerks getting more hick as he’d gone on.

“Yeah,” He raised an eyebrow. “Who the fuck are you?”

The door was pulled open further. Billy felt the unpleasant warmth of old tension twist in his stomach.

“Billy,” his dad said. He looked the same. It made Billy feel younger, which he hated. 

“Hey, dad.”

“You’re late.”

_ Jesus.  _

Billy, hating every second that passed more than the last, met his dad’s  _ brand fucking new _ family. 

A new family. He knew his dad got remarried, he’d had to deal with the divorce shit because his mom kept having breakdowns, but he didn't know his dad had a new kid. A kid with like, a personality and feelings. Jesus, how fucked was this kid? Billy didn’t like to think about how he’d be if he’d had to stay with his dad, and this kid hadn't been stuck with him her whole life, but he knew the look. She kind of looked like she didn’t want anyone to notice her, even when she was the only other person in the room. 

Because for a second Billy and her were alone in the guest room where he was supposed to put all his shit for the next two and a half months. She stood right up against the wall, and didn't look right at him, but looked at him sideways, keeping her curiosity to herself. 

He looked at her head on, though, standing with his backpack over one shoulder. 

“Thrasher.” He pointed to the logo on her shirt. “Do you skate?”

“Sometimes.”

His dad walked back in, did the thing where he stood with his arms folded and nodded a lot which means you shouldn’t talk until he was done talking. 

Because he wanted to set up ground rules. 

Ground rules that you weren't supposed to argue with.

There was a lot of stuff about whether or not he was supposed to show up at meals and what sort of things he should and shouldn't do but it boiled down to three main points.

One: No girls. Billy might have laughed out fucking loud. He hadn't seen his dad since two Christmases ago when his dad still lived in San Diego and he’d had to drive down just to say hi, but he had completely forgotten what it was like to have people assume things like that. It was jarring.

Two: He had a literal curfew. Kinda made him want to leave back to California right then and there. But he knew his mom wanted him to try and stick this out. 

And Three: He was supposed to take care of Max. Just anything she might need during the week, she was going to go to him. 

Up until: “...And I assume you'll be getting a job.”

“Yes.” Billy knew he had to keep making money for him and his mom-   
“Yes,  _ sir.” _ He dad corrected him.

Billy blinked a couple of times before he repeated. “Yes, sir.”

“Glad to have you back.” His dad said before heading back downstairs. 

_ No, you’re not. _

“I’m not being whiny,” Billy spoke into the receiver of the first payphone he found to call his mom on. The sun was setting over Buttfuck, Indiana and it kinda made him want to die. “But I don't see why I can’t just come  _ home- _ ”   
“You have to try to stick it out, baby-”

“I am! I am trying.”

“Billy,” She sounded stern. “This isn’t my decision.”

_ Right, ok, getting addicted to painkillers wasn’t your decision. Fucking up the custody shit wasn’t your descion. Marrying certified son-of-a-bitch Neil Hargrove wasn’t your decision- _

“It’s only been a day.”

“Yeah,” He clipped the word a little. 

He could hear his mom sigh. 

“How’s your girl doing?” She asked eventually. “She survive the trip?”

Billy looked up at the Camaro, parked a few yards away. “She’s fine, mom.”

“Good. And he fed you?”

“He did.” Billy leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the phone booth, remembering the palpable tension of dinner with his dad and his dad’s  _ new family _ .

“...How is-”

“Don’t ask me how he is.” Billy closed his eyes. Why did she do this? Why did she always do this? “Don’t-”

“Billy, I wasn’t-”   
“You can’t keep asking me how he is every time I see him-”

“You do  _ not _ get to tell me what to do I am your  _ mother- _ ”

“Act like it, then!”   
Ah, shit. He shouldn't have said that. He could feel the pause, feel the weight of it. His mom started crying.

“Mom, I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just- Today has been, you know, hard.”

“That’s alright, baby.” Was she trying to sound that pathetic? “I understand.”

“...How’s things back home?”

His mom stopped crying. She talked about music she’d be listening to, people she’d met, and very very briefly about what rehab itself was like. 

Billy felt like a piece of shit what whole time. 

_ She needs you. _

No, she’s manipulating you.    
_ She’s a trainwreck. _

You’re an asshole.

“Talk to you later, baby?”

“Later, mom.”

Billy showed at breakfast, sat across from his dad and Susan (that was the new wife’s name), at literal 8am. Just to be polite, keep a low profile, try to do what his mom would suggest he do so as not to make trouble. It felt dangerously normal. He didn't want to get stuck down in it again.

And he couldn't wait to get out of the house but after his dad left, after Billy had made a point of thanking Susan for breakfast, just as he was getting ready to leave and go do, you know, something, the kid showed up in the doorway of the guest room.

“Maxine.” He said, looking up at her from tying his shoes. 

“It’s just Max,” she said. 

“Great, yeah, whatever.”

“Can you take me to the mall?”

Billy stood up, grabbing his keys. “There’s a mall here?”

She didn’t respond to that.

“Yeah, I can take you.”

Billy kept shooting glances sideways as they drove, Max only speaking to direct him- the mall,  _ Starcourt,  _ (pretentious ass name for such a tiny ass town), was a good twenty minute drive away. He kept finding himself wondering,  _ how _ she was. This place that was a summer for him, how was it as a life for her? 

“God, this fucking town,” Billy mumbled when they passed yet another pasture. 

Max did not respond, again. 

“Why am I taking you to the mall, anyway? Am I supposed to take you shopping or some shit?”

“No,” She unfolded her arms. “I’m meeting friends.”

Another long silence.

“So, Max-” He tried.

“You don’t have to talk to me.” She sounded kind of uppity about it.

“What?” He almost laughed.

“You don’t have to talk to me just because it’s like, the thing to do or whatever.”

“Someone’s pissy for 10 in the morning-”

“God, I knew you’d be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Forget it.”

Billy laughed out loud. 

“What?” She turned fully sideways to look at him, like she was challenging him or some shit.

“I was only gonna ask you how fucking old you are, and you go and launch into some deep shit about how you knew what I’d be like.” He kept laughing- the whole thing was so dramatic and fucked, being here, talking to her, he might as well. 

“Look, you don’t like me, and I don't-”

“I like you fine.”

Max stopped. “What?”

“I like you. You’re weird. And bitchy.”

“Why do you keep trying to razz me so hard if you like me?”

“You’re easy to razz.”

“You’re a prick.”

“I try.” He grinned.

She stared at him for a long moment. Then. “I’m fourteen.” She answered the age question. 

“Freshman in the fall?”

“Yeah.”   
“High school sucks. Good thing you have “friends.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Yeah. It is.”

They pulled into the mall parking lot with less tension. 

Max ran off to meet her friends, Billy was left alone. 

Malls in summer feel a bit like the last piece of festival left in the human race. It was hot, and everything glowed, but it all smelled like melting plastic and over-chlorinated fountain water. His shoes squeaked on the floors if he didn't pick them up all the way, and the people around him were more normal than he remembered seeing in a while. The radio only played top forty just loud enough that only the chords would get stuck in your head. People started giving him stray looks soon enough. He had too-long but unstyled blonde surfer curls, and since he was sixteen he’d worn them pulled back. He looked as out of place as he felt, he was sure, there must have still been sand trapped under the soles of his converse, and he was wearing a band t-shirt from a friend’s gig- he doubted there was an underground music scene here. But odd as he was, he swapped smiles with a girl leaning up against the outside wall of a JC Penny and she giggled- the town must be into it. 

Billy would be news in a matter of days- the boy from California.

But he didn't really love the ideal of being in anyone's weird-books, so it was good he found Robin when he did.

On his way circling back, he walked past some tacky ice cream place-  _ Scoops Ahoy? Really? What god-forsaken marketing team-  _ when he looked in and saw a girl. 

Business was slow, so she was taking the opportunity to sweep the floor around the front of the counter.

Billy stopped dead.

_ Oh, thank god.  _

He clocked her  _ immediately- _ she was like him. Must have been the only other queer kid in the place. She knew it, too, the wariness with which she carried herself, the shittily bleached hair, the chain, he saw her shoes before she walked back around the counter after she saw him walking in, incriminating graffiti.

“Robin.” He said, reading her name tag, smiling.

She looked away, then back at him. “Uh, yeah.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Buckley.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why, do I know you from somewhere?”

“Nope.” He smiled. “Robin Buckley…” He said the name musically. “I’m Billy.”

“I would say ‘'nice to meet you’, but-”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“Are you gonna order?” He could tell she was getting annoyed, probably thought he was flirting. “Or-”

“I like your shoes.” He said. 

She looked taken aback. “What?”

“You draw those toon tits yourself?”

“Ok, what’s your deal, man?” She looked actually kind of pissed now. 

“Most of the queer shit on my shoes is from my freinds.”

She stilled. Her eyes widened. “The...”

“Yep.”

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Billy.” He grinned. “I’m new in town.”

“From where?”   
“California.”

Robin smiled, then her brow furrowed, she looked a little overwhelmed to be honest. Billy felt kind of like a celebrity.

“You wanna hangout for a bit, Robin Buckley?”

“Yes, yes I do. Hang on a sec- Steve!” She turned around to call into the back room

Billy looked up over her shoulder just as the door to the back opened.

“Yeah?” A voice called back.

A guy walked in. 

A tall guy, strong, almost a runner’s build, with bouncy locks- legit locks- of straight brown hair and practically porcelain skin. His lips must have been chapped- no one had that kind of cherry-red naturally flushed across their mouth. Dark eyes. And a sharp nose. He looked a bit like a bird, if birds could be that fucking sexy.

Billy might have whistled aloud-  _ a pretty boy _ .

“What’s up?” he was saying, in an equally pretty voice, not too low, not too high. 

“Can you take over for a minute? I’m gonna take my fifteen,” Robin asked him. 

“Sure,” Steve- his name, his little red name tag said so- turned around almost clumsily. “What’s-”

“Great.” Robin pushed past him around the counter, grabbing Billy's arm and dragging him away to sit in one of the far booths. Billy couldn't help looking over his shoulder at the guy- Steve. They made eye contact for a fleeting second, before Steve looked back to Robin, his brow still furrowed in confusion. 

“You better come back,” he called after her.

“Where in California?” Was the first thing Robin asked him.

“Santa Cruz.”

“How is it, you know, there?”

“Pretty easy, people don't really give a shit. Close enough to San Francisco I guess. How hard is it here?”

“Fucking imposisble.”

“Looks like. I think I saw a truck with like, four confederate flags on the way over.”

Talking was so easy when the first icebreaker could get you killed at the wrong party.

“Don’t tell me I’m the first one you’ve met?” Billy teased when he said something she didn't understand. 

“No, I have a couple friends from summer camp, but you’re like, the only other one here.”

Billy desperately wanted to ask about that guy- that Steve guy- and how well Robin knew him and what his deal was, but he wasn't in California anymore.

Robin had to go soon, anyway, but could she get his number? Hell no, but he’d take hers. 

She wrote it on his arm.

“See you later?”

“See you later Robin Buckley.”

\--

“What was that about?” Steve aks Robin when she got back. “Was that guy hitting on you?”

“No, uh, he’s a friend.”

“From where?”

“We just met.” She laughed a little.

“God, no matter how much time we spend together I will never understand you.”

Robin laughed again. Steve loved making Robin laugh, had since they started being friends and he thought he liked her.

He’d heard it said that a rejected crush could strengthen a friendship. He didn’t believe it until he got rejected by robin- on quite final grounds. 

Steve and Robin were already close. They had aimed to get this job together, because at the end of senior year, with no friends and no popularity, a long since broken hearted Steve got tutoring from Robin for mMrs. Click’s class. 

And when you spend enough hours in the library with someone, and then at your house, going from studying to explanations to anecdotes to jokes to real conversations, you get to know them soon enough- close enough that you hear something they would never tell anyone else. 

And maybe Steve was let down that he was still up a creek without a paddle as far as relationships go, but he finally- after literal months of loneliness- had a friend. 

They started doing everything together. Ate lunch, passed notes in class, hung out every weekend, Robin started trying to teach him vulgar phrases in french, Steve taught her how to make what he called ‘ultimate mac n cheese’- their parents kind of thought they were a thing-  _ “Really, we’re just friends.” _

And they got this job together. 

“He was totally hitting on you.” Steve was telling her, wiping down counters for closing. 

“He was not.”

“I don’t think you'd be able to tell if he was, though!”

“Just because i’m gay doesnt mean I cant tell when people are flirting-- especially boys.”

“What do you mean, especially boys?”

“Need I refer to the board?” She pointed in the direction of the ‘you rule/you suck’ scoreboard.

“No, I just. I dunno.”

“You? Not knowing something? Shocker.”

“What was his name anyway?” Steve brushed her off.

“Billy. He’s from California.”

“Billy from California.” Steve mused. “He looked sort of... cool. Or, you know, like he thinks he’s cool.”

Robin laughed. 

“What?” Steve frowned. 

“Nothing.”


	2. Big Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ive outed myself as a theatre kid with the chapter title. But thats ok. the mortifying ordeal of being known and all that.   
> exciting   
> also i love you  
> and i hope youre having a good day because you deserve it!  
> ta-rah

Just before school ended, Steve had gotten Robin stoned on her trampoline.

It always took Robin a bit by surprise that Steve was such a stoner. He didn’t do it often, but when he did, it was a lot, and he could handle it. 

She wondered if he used to get high by himself a lot, and how much that probably sucked, but she didn’t really have the brainpower to articulate that sentiment at the moment she thought of it, because Steve had gotten her baked off her ass when her parents left for the night and they’d taken up roost of Robin’s trampoline, left over from her childhood. 

All she could do was bounce. 

And bounce. 

And think about how she was bouncing.

And say what she thought out loud. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” The word was breathier that it might have been, he was also pretty set on the bouncing.

“How long do you think we've been out here?”

“No idea.” He laughed.

She laughed back, and then couldn't think of anything else to do, until she fell over. Steve fell over on purpose next to her.

Robin stayed giggling for a while longer- everything was ok!- even as Steve checked his watch.

“Ok, so it’s 8:15, we’ve been out here since like seven.”

“I’ve-” Robin had to slow down to talk. “I’ve never bounced for this long before.”

Steve started laughing at that.

Robin rolled onto her side to get an arm across Steve’s chest. He put an arm over her shoulders, under her neck. They stared at the sky. 

Hugging Steve like this was really nice- he was all warm and smelled nice, and sometimes Robin thought if she tried harder she would like him the way he had liked her. But maybe it was just as nice to hold each other and mean nothing by it. It wasn't any effort.

He might have been thinking the same thing, because he started talking again.

“Rob.”

“Mm?”   
“If you. If you like,  _ had _ , to kiss a guy, who’d you kiss?”

“Gross. No one. I don’t like boys.” Robin wrinkled her nose.

“You have to. Your life depends on it.”

“I won’t! It’s gross! What if  _ you _ had to kiss a boy?”

“I’d kiss Rob Lowe.”

“What?”

“If I had to kiss a guy I’d kiss Rob Lowe. He’s pretty.”

Robin turned her head to look at him, trying desperately to keep her cool because  _ Steve _ was talking about wanting to  _ kiss _ a  _ boy _ and holy shit she called it she  _ called _ it. “Why do you think he’s pretty?”   
“Dude, have you seen his eyes? Like how fucking blue are they? And his whole, face thing with his cheekbones or whatever? I bet he smells nice too... but anyway, yeah. If I  _ had _ to kiss a guy, Rob Lowe.”

“Good choice.” 

“Yeah, thank you. Did you watch The Outsiders? Personally I felt like…”

Robin hadn't seen The Outsiders but she let Steve talk about it anyway. Not that she was super up to lots of talking. 

Robin’s parents were ‘progressive’ and Steve’s parents didn't give a shit so Steve was allowed to sleep over, and they just grabbed pillows and a couple throw blankets from the living room to crash on the trampoline. Hawkins was pretty at night sometimes. You could see a lot of stars from Robin’s house. 

Steve always liked how Robin would hang on to him in her sleep. 

Steve wasn't exactly  _ jealous _ when Robin started hanging out with someone else. 

He was just, you know, maybe a little disappointed, maybe a little irritated, feeling a little inadequate as a friend and person in general. 

So  _ maybe _ he was jealous. 

But Robin was like, the only person he’d even so much as swapped birthdays with in  _ ages _ . He could mind that she declined his invite to drive around for a couple hours and get ice cream to hangout with this new Californian guy and like? Why did Robin want to ditch Steve to hangout with him? What made him so cool? Was it the ease with which he carried himself or the confidence with which he spoke or maybe how blue his eyes were or how pretty and curly his hair was or whatever? Because, like, whatever. Steve was cool.

“Dustin, do you think I’m still, you know, cool?”

“I think you’re super cool.” Dustin said through a mouthful of fries. Steve had opted to take him out to Burger King if Robin had better things to do. “Why?” Dustin grabbed for his soda.

“There’s like, this new kid in town-”

“The Californian?”

Steve turned his head. “How do you know that?”

“This is wild. Turns out? He’s Max’s step brother. Crazy, right?”

“Yeah, crazy.” Steve unfolded his arms. “Have you met him?”

“No, but I’ve heard some wild shit. You know he has a tattoo? He’s not even eighteen yet. And he surfs apparently, Max was telling us. She says he’s kind of a dick but also pretty cool…”

Stve listened to Dustin talk about the new kid for a while longer, before cutting in quick-

“What’s his name again?”

“Billy. I think.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, anyway, remember I was telling you about how there’s a chance I could work at the arcade when I turn sixteen?”

“That’s a year and a half from now.”

“Right, but Keith was saying….”

Billy took Robin out. He bought her food and dragged her around and they talked in hushed voices about thoughts and feelings you couldn't express at a normal volume and Billy even grabbed her hand at one point and she laughed. 

“People are gonna think I’m cheating on Steve.” She grabbed her hand back after a while.

“Steve, like that guy you work with?”

“Yeah, he used to be kind of a big deal here. But he’s also a friend. Best friend.”

“Best friend? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well does he  _ know _ ?”

“Yeah, he does.” 

Billy was taken aback. “He looks like such a dumb jock.”

“Oh he is. Dumb and a jock. But he’s really, you know, nice.”

“Is he also…?”

Robin made a face. “I… don’t know.”

Billy thought briefly about how pink Steve’s lips were and how bouncy his hair was all over again before honing back in on the conversation. 

“What’d you mean, you don't know.”

“I mean I just don’t know. I doubt he knows.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s his whole name?”

“What, like, first and last?”

“Yeah.”

“Steve Harrington.”

Billy mentioned he needed a job while he was in Hawkins. Robin suggested lifeguarding. 

He got the lifeguard job. He did junior guards as a kid and had lifeguarded a couple of times at beaches in Santa Cruz. He was more qualified than half the people there. On top of that, the girl manager, probably in her late twenties, kept shooting him these little smiles that he returned to an extent, if anything just to make sure he got the job.

“It’s a bit late, but we can add you in.” She leaned her cheek on her hand. 

It was a pretty chilled out gig. Hawkins was a painfully small town. He was pretty sure a couple of the dried up housewives were thirsting after him, but it made him laugh to think how devestated they’d be to find out the new cute California boy was a total queer. 

He met a lot of people too, people kept coming up to talk to him, whether or not he was working. Word spread fast in a small town. He met a lot of teenage girls, couple guys, who either thought he was cool or were pressed as shit, he couldn't tell- maybe both. A few others. 

Everyone knew his name, first and last, which meant they knew his dad, and he wondered what the local story was to explain that. 

What was Billy to the town? Was he the new golden boy? Or an out of state weirdo?

Depends who you asked. 

But bottom line he liked the job, picked up as many hours as he could to stay out of the house most of the day. 

And it was how he met Heather Holloway.

Heather was his age, if a bit younger, and probably would try out girls in college, he could already tell, but she had a thing for Billy, like so many women who frequented the pool. 

Or at least she thought she did. He wasn't quite sure what her deal was.

She stayed late one day, up until the pool closed and he ran into her at the front desk, signing out. Billy’d been in Hawkins for nearly a week and had done nothing but work, drive around, and avoid interacting with his dad. If he was gonna have some fun this might be his only opportunity. 

He leaned on the counter, pushed his hair back a little.

“Heather.”

She turned around real quick. 

“What’s up, California?” Everyone at work had started calling him that.

He smiled. She tried not to smile back too much. God this was too easy. “You seem like you’d know, tell me: what do people do around here for fun?”

“For fun?”

“Yeah.” 

She bit her lip a second, thinking. “Most people hang out at the mall, but there's the arcade downtown, or bowling-”

Billy snorted. “I’m talking big kid stuff, Heather.” 

She looked a little fluttery at her name being said aloud. 

“Well, there’s a party later tonight, if you’d wanna, you know, swing by.”

“I’d love to. Thing is,” Billy leaned a little more on the counter, a little closer to Heather. “I don’t really know my way around yet. Think I could tag along with you?”

Heather smiled, blushed a little. “I think so.”

Steve came up one more time before Billy actually met the guy. 

Weirdly enough, it was Max that mentioned him.

She was talking, Billy wasn't listening, he was supposed to drive her somewhere to see her little friends again and he was doing that so why did he have to listen to her talk, too?

_ Because you should be looking out for her. _

All he heard was nerd shit blah blah some girl named El something about how late she’d be up and-

“...Steve-”

“Who?” Billy couldn't help himself. 

“Steve?” Max raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, who is that.”   
“My babysitter.”

Billy almost smiled. 

“Why?” Max asked. 

“Isn't he big news in this town or something?” Billy said like it was nothing, like it was obvious, like he was just curious. 

“I guess.” Max was studying billy. Which he didn't like. 

But she was fourteen, what did she know?

Nancy and Jonathan felt bad for Steve. He could tell. They might even pity him, which sucked ass, because nothing feels worse than the tinted glass of pity when you don’t pity yourself. Because being dragged out to this party kind of made him feel like he  _ should _ pity himself. He hardly knew anyone anymore, or couldn't keep a conversation going with the names he did remember. He wasn't even in high school anymore. He was the one who had gotten Nancy into partying in the first place. He just wanted to leave. 

He looked up, Billy from California was here. 

God, that made him want to curl up and die. 

Why did Robin have to have family dinner nights on Fridays?

Billy hadn’t been on a date with a girl since he was maybe fourteen. He wasn't entirely out of practice though most meaningless dates were the same. He could probably even manage to makeout with her for a bit if he absolutely had to, to play it safe. But he’d rather not.

Kissing girls always struck him as akin to being forced to drink perfume.

But Heather knew most everyone, so Billy got introduced to most everyone. 

Halfway through a conversation that made Billy seem cooler by the second, he looked over a guys shoulder and saw the boy- Steve Harrington, looking like a lost, chronically depressed puppy in the crowd. 

Billy knew his name, knew his deal, but he wanted to see what everyone else knew. 

_ Play dumb. _

“Who’s that guy?” Billy lifted his cup in Steve’s direction. 

“Him?” Heather pulled a face Billy couldn't quiet peg. “ _ That’s _ Steve Harrington.”

“What’s with the face, Holloway?” Billy leaned closer to her. 

“God, it’s so funny that you don’t live here!” She laughed. “Steve Harrington is like, a legend. And also totally not…”

Steve Harrington. 

Used to be popular. 

And maybe it was the losing streak at basketball games, maybe it was the getting broken up with by some girl who had the most straight laced name Billy'd ever heard, but he lost his crown. 

“Why do you ask?” Heather nudged him.

Why was Billy asking? Probably something to do with the lanky build, the sharp nose, the bouncy hair which was probably so soft to the touch-

_ You’re not in California. _

“He’s my sister’s babysitter.” Billy shrugged. “But what were you saying about his ‘crown’?”

“Everyone used to call him King Steve.” Heather laughed. “Just ask.”

Billy asked. Coyly, casually, halfway through flirting, asked anyone he could get his hands on. 

Who was this King Steve he was hearing so much about? 

And the whole time he went from person to person, playing it cool, asking casually, like maybe he didn't care, maybe it was all he could think of to talk about, he just kept thinking he should  _ stop _ . 

He wasn’t in California. He should just hook up with the first fringe boy that looked his way, or better yet, be celibate for the two and a half months. But he  _ had  _ to know. 

Who’s Steve Harrington? What’s he like? Bit of a dick. Really? Looks like a softie to me. He’s changed. Changed how? Stopped being such a guy. How’s that?

“Got his heart broke last year.”

“I heard he was a massive player.”

“Yeah, but he was pussywhipped for that girl-”

What was her name, again?

Nancy Wheeler.

Billy found Nancy Wheeler. Not even on purpose. 

Turning around in the kitchen he ran into some girl. She tripped into him and he caught her but both their cups fell. She got the brunt of it. 

“Oh god, sorry!” She laughed, half embarrassed, half amused. She looked sloshed. 

“Careful, now.” Billy laughed a little, still holding her up more than he would have liked. “Think you can stand on your own?”

“Nancy!” Someone called. 

Billy turned around to see possibly the dweebiest kid his age he'd ever met. Bowl cut, brown jeans, god was that sweater from the fucking seventies?

The guy apologized to him like five or six times, clearly did not want to be there, before helping Nancy to stand up off Billy’s arms. 

“Nance, you ok?” he asked her.

“Babe! I’m fine. I’m totally fine-” She smiled at him.

And, hey, wait a second-

“Are you Nancy Wheeler?” Billy asked. He probably shouldn't have. He just couldn't help himself. 

“I am!” She smiled. “Oh! And this is Jonathan, my boyfriend.” She pointed to him, still leaning on his arm. He gave a shy- or hesitant?- smile.

“That’s so funny,” Billy was really committing to this, wasn't he? “Someone was just telling me about you-”

“Oh no, what did they say?” Her face fell.

Billy laughed. He had to be as charming as possible if he wanted this interaction to go well. “Oh, nothing bad. Just who you were. I’m kinda new in town-”

“OH!” Nancy lit up. “You’re the Californian! You’re all anybody’s talking about!”   
Billy smiled, leaned on the counter, and let Nancy tell him about himself for a bit, nodding, laughing at pauses where he could tell she wanted him to laugh. Then, oh and then, she was looking over his shoulder and calling 

“Oh, there he is- Steve! Steve, get over here!”

Billy turned over his shoulder. 

Steve Harrington, nearly six foot, with dark, bouncy hair and moles on his cheek like he was a golden age movie star, walked over, ducking a little as he passed other party goers with zero grace, to stand next to Nancy and go: “What’s happening?” in this idyllic tenor of a voice. He was in casual wear, his polo collar popped. He smelled like the men's section of the classiest department store in the world. 

“Steve, this is Billy Hargrove! The guy from California!” Nancy said to him and Steve looked up at Billy. 

Big brown eyes, would-be mismatched with his lithe physique if they didn’t suit him perfectly. 

_ Pretty boy. _

“Hey.” Steve smiled briefly, just to be polite. Billy was kind of disappointed. But Steve stuck out his hand. “Heard a bit about you.”

“Haven't we met before?” Billy asked, easy smile playing across his lips as he took it.

Steve had a broad palm but thin fingers. His hand was still cold from the beer he’d been holding. 

“Oh, yeah.” Steve wasn't much of a conversationalist apparently. Kind of disappointing. “You’re Robin’s new friend.”

Billy laughed a little. “Robin’s a character.”

“Guess so.”

What was this guy’s deal? Was he always this… dull? Whatever happened to King Steve? Had he really hit rock bottom so hard that he wasn't even a person anymore?

“Hey, Nance,” Steve had already turned to her again. “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Oh, what? Steve, no, we can drive you-”

“That’s alright, I can walk.” Steve smiled fleetingly. He set down his empty cup, said his goodbyes, with a short, ‘nice meeting you’ to Billy, before disappearing back into the crowd and presumably, out the door. 

“What's his deal?” Billy said, not fully measuring that one out.

“He’s just gloomy these days.” Nancy sighed. 

“He’ll be fine, he’s  _ Steve. _ ” Jonathan reassured her.

“I guess.” Nancy sighed. 

Billy tried to stick out the dumb party, talking to Nancy and Jonathan, or whoever, but with Steve gone there wasn’t a ton of a point. He should probably bail before his new  _ curfew _ anyway. He found Heather making out with some guy on a couch, and asked if she needed a ride home, but she was fine, thanks. 

On his way out, Billy got an open invite to the next party. People practically begged him to come back. 

Billy’d only been on the road a couple minutes when he saw a figure walking and immediately knew it was Steve. He slowed, rolled down his window, couldn’t help but keep the roll from his voice:

“Steve Harrington.” 

Steve stopped, turned. “Oh, hey.”

“You need a ride, man?”

Steve had his hands in his pockets, the lamplight caught a sort of gold in his brown eyes when he turned his head away, then back to Billy. “Sure.”

Steve got in the passenger side, looked over his shoulder. “Cool car.”

“Thanks. She’s a beauty.”

Steve smiled a little, nodded. 

“So what are you doing in Hawkins?” Steve asked him after he gave his address.

“Staying with my dad for the summer.”

“Cool.”

“You live here all your life?” Billy asked Steve.

“Yep. Born and raised and all that.”

“Cool.”   
How long had Billy been in Indiana? A week or so. Did he miss the golden state? You bet. 

“Got a girlfriend out west?”

“The only women in my life are my mother and my car.” Was what Billy responded with.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Steve laughed a little. 

Was this all there was to do in Hawkins on the weekends, was Billy’s next question.

“Pretty much.” Steve smiled a bit more genuinely. “This is all I did in high school. Kinda weird to be out.”

If Billy said the right things, maybe he could loosen this guy up a little. 

Plans for college? None.

Billy already knew his job. 

But after a good long string of mundane questions, Steve started answering more animatedly. 

Billy couldn't have known that Steve hadn't talked like this to anyone since… well since Nancy dumped him.

And Steve was actually sort of happy, actually sort of felt like it was worth going out, if just for this brief and meaningless conversation, because he was almost reluctant to get out of the car. 

But he did.

“Hey thanks for the ride man.” A mildly drunk and very pretty Steve Harrington said, already outside Billy’s car, in front of his ridiculously large house. 

“Anytime, Steve Harrington.”

Steve ended up standing outside in his driveway, watching Billy’s headlights get dimmer down the road, wondering why it made him so happy to hear this random guy from California say his whole name.

Maybe he just felt cool again.

Steve tended to forget almost everything that happened while he was high until he remembered it. Like, he’d forget entire events, entire conversations, and he definitely forgot what he’d said to Robin about Rob Lowe like a week and a half ago, until he saw a magazine at the drugstore with  _ An Interview with Rob Lowe, teen heartthrob,  _ and thought:

Oh fuck. 

Shit. Shitshitshit he wasnt supposed to say shit like that out loud! Christ, what was wrong with him?

_ Robin’s gay, she doesn’t care.  _

Ok but Steve couldn't just throw his thoughts  _ like that _ out there! Because god knows he’d been having thoughts  _ like that  _ for a while, and had been in turns ignoring them and thinking of long drawn out scenarios in which he fooled aroud with another guy but that was  _ gay _ . Steve wasn’t gay. BUT WHY WOULD HE THINK THINGS LIKE THAT IF HE WASN’T GAY?!   
And why had he said that out loud to  _ another person _ ?

_ It’s just Robin. _

What if Robin thought he was gay now! 

_ What if you are? _

I’m not!

_ So why do you wanna make out with Rob Lowe- _

Shut up! Just shut up and stop having a mental breakdown until you get home! Or forever!

_ Look, man. If you kiss a guy and don't like it, then you’re for sure not gay. Problem solved. _

I’m not kissing a guy because I’m  _ not gay _ -

_ Only one way to find out. _

“Robin?” Steve asked her after work on Sunday; he was her ride home most days.

“Yeah?”

“You remember when we were really high that one time-”

“And you said you’d make out with Rob Lowe if you ever got the chance? Yes I remember that.”

“How do you always know what I’m gonna say?’

“I’m a super genius, remember?”

He smiled, then frowned again. “I kinda feel like, I mean, I dunno. I feel like I should. Do that. Before I die.”

“Makeout with Rob Lowe? I fully support that but I don’t how plausible-”

“No, just. Like… kiss… a boy.” Steve looked braced for something. Robin just looked back at him blankly. “You’re not gonna make fun of me?”

“No, Steve- What? Why would I make fun of you?”   
“I dont know, I just said some pretty queer shit-”

“Steve, I am a  _ lesbian _ I don’t give a shit if you wanna kiss boys or fucking not.”

“I know, I just-”

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to kiss a boy, even if you are also a boy.” Robin said with a sense of finality. It kind of made Steve believe her.

“You think so?”

“I  _ know _ so. I know everything.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. 

“I might not.” Steve said of it eventually. “Do, that. I mean.”

“But you could.”

Steve snorted. “Maybe if I had gone off to college I could have kissed a guy, but I'm here in  _ Hawkins- _ ”   
“I know someone you could kiss.”

“What? Who?”   
“Billy.” 

Steve looked completely taken off guard. “He’s- The Californian- Billy’s  _ gay _ ?” He whispered the last word like it was cursed, which made Robin roll her eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you’ve been hanging out with him so much?”   
“Yeah.” Robin smiled. 

“Jesus Christ.” Steve laughed out loud. “That’s- wow. I’m not going to kiss California Boy, Billy Hargrove.”

“Why not? He’d probably say yes if you asked.”

“Because- That’s- That's insane.”

“I mean, when else in your life are you gonna get to try it out? Like you said, you’re not going to college. And you’re college age. Fuck around.”

“What if someone finds out?”

Robin chewed her cheek. “I mean… yeah. There’s that.”

“So it’s a bad idea.”

“It’s always a good idea to try to figure yourself out. It's just whether the  _ how _ is a good idea.”

A long pause.

“I’m not gonna kiss him-”

“I didn't say you would, I just said it was a possibility.”

Right, just a possibility.


	3. Just To Be Sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beep boop shmoop im gay and i love u :D

Max was not Billy’s problem. He had to keep telling himself that. 

His mom told him that too. He got visiting hour phone calls with her from rehab, he had to go through a secretary, it was a whole thing. But he still got to hear from her on the weekends which was important because it made him feel more sane. 

Most of the time. Sometimes it just made him want to scream.

But he tried not to think about that. 

Instead he thought about trying to seem like less of a total fag, took his earring out most of the time and wore only the ring his mom got him for his 16th birthday, not any of the others. He kept the pendant on, though. He had to. 

And he thought, in the total opposite direction, about how if he didn’t find some dumb farm boy to hook up with and  _ fast _ he might actually lose it. Like lay low, be safe, whatever, but he’d already been in a dry spell for weeks back home after the whole college party incident- which he was going to try not to think about- and this was near about too much. 

So Max wasn't his problem. They weren't even related, she was Susan’s from a previous marriage - wasn't divorce a delight? But Max was, like,  _ there _ . She was there in the house everyday, more out of the house than in it, actually. Just like Billy. And he couldn't help but talk to her again. 

Neil made him run errands, he’d ask if she wanted to come with. 

She’d ask for rides places. 

He’d say hey when he passed her in the hallway in the morning. 

And she started warming up to him, which he felt kind of smug about, because getting a kid like that to warm up to you wasn't an easy feat. 

He was a kid like that. 

She probably knew that.

He was surprised by how talkative she had started getting, he learned a decent amount about her:

She did skate. A lot. But wasn't exactly amazing at it yet.

She was from Los Angeles originally, to which he replied ‘gross’ and she pulled a face at him. 

He asked if she was old enough to go to many shows in LA.

She said no, but that she liked stuff like Oingo Boingo and X from tapes she’d gotten a hold of.

“Look who’s cool.” He grinned.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“But don’t you like weird nerd shit?”

She did. 

She had the high scores at a couple of the games at the arcade, she mentioned, trying to play down how obviously proud she was of herself.

“God that’s so lame.”

“Don’t ask me about it then!-”

“You should show me sometime,” Billy said easily, grinning a little at how warily she reacted. “I've been in an arcade, like, twice in my life. Could be fun.”

Sure, Max could take him sometime. 

Billy’s prayers for aforementioned dumb Indiana boy to hook up with were answered within two and a half weeks of arriving in Hawkins. 

Just in slightly more  _ involved _ circumstances than he would have liked. 

One of the times in the next week that Billy saw Robin, he just went to Scoops to bug her- figured he’d tell her about the first week with a new job. But she wasn’t up in front. Instead, the one and only Steve Harrington was. 

“Steve Harrington,” Billy said musically, leaning forward a little. 

Steve glanced away, then back at Billy. “You don’t have to say my whole name every time.”

Billy laughed, but he was actually more zeroed in than he had been since he got to Hawkins. 

Something about the couple of interactions he had with Steve, the way Steve looked at him head on, but couldn't hold the gaze for very long, the way he echoed Billy’s smile, the way he went back and forth in making conversation and tense silence. 

It was entirely…. Straight. 

Billy wanted to know more. 

“So,” Billy walked back around the shoe display of the store Robin had dragged him into the next day, put an arm over her shoulders. “About Steve.”

“Nope.” Robin pushed Billy’s arm off. “I told you, he doesn't know, and you’re not gonna be the one to tell him.”

“Oh, what, and you are?”

Robin rolled her eyes. 

“Someone has to! He’s not exactly a gifted-and-talented.”

Robin snorted, brushed past him again.

“C’mon Buckley, gimme something to work with.”

“You’re not in California anymore, hot shot.”

“I can be subtle. Trust me.”

“Strangely enough? I do not trust you.”

Billy laughed. 

Robin tried to convince herself she wasn't trying to set Steve up with Billy From California. That didn't work. Then she tried convincing herself that setting them up was a good idea. That sort of worked. Eventually she decided she should try to set them up but if Steve asked if that's what she was doing she wouldn't lie about it but Steve probably wouldn't ask anyway because he wasn't exactly smart so maybe she should just tell him she was trying to set them up to be totally transparent, like a good friend. 

But she would have time to be totally transparent later. 

“Steve, I think we should invite Billy to hangout with us.” Robin said when he picked up.

“What? No. No way in hell.”

“Why not? Because you’re jealous or because he’s gay?”

“Not- I’m not jealous.”

Robin laughed a little.    
“And I don’t care that he’s gay! I don’t care that  _ you’re _ gay, so, you know, I obviously don’t care-”

“It sounds like you care.”

“I don’t!”

“So why don’t you want us to hangout with him?”   
“I- I mean, I dunno. You suggested I makeout with him! That makes it weird.”

“Well you said you're  _ not _ going to makeout with him! Problem solved.”

Steve was quiet for a bit.

“Hey, look, if you really don’t want to hang out with him, we totally don't have to.”

“Yeah, no. I know. But we should.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You're the best,” Robin let herself have a little victory. 

“Whatever.”

Robin called Billy next.

“Billy!” Max called from downstairs.    
“What?!”   
“Phone for you!”

He rolled up out of bed, his feet feeling a little tingly at weight suddenly being on them. He wasn't scheduled today so he hadn't gotten out of bed yet,- no parents around to tell him he was a lazy son of a bitch, so, you know- but it was almost noon. 

When he got downstairs, Max pulled a face at him. “God, take a shower.”

“ _ God,” _ He mimicked, pitching his voice up before grabbing the phone from her. 

Max, rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway before walking off back to the kitchen.    
“Hello?”

“Hey, Billiam.” It was Robin.

“You’re talking to me like we’re friends or something.” Billy grinned. 

“Yeah, whatever. Listen, Steve and I were going to go dick around at the mall later. I need to go shopping for my cousin's wedding in Vermont. Wanna come?”

“Well well well, finally caved? Gonna give me your key to Harrington’s chastity belt?”

“God, forget it” Robin gave a scandalized laugh. “I’m de-inviting you.”

“Completely understandable. I am kind of too cool for you.”

“We’re hanging out- the three of us- as  _ friends _ .”

“Friends,” Billy echoed. He pressed his tongue up behind his teeth for a second. “You got it.” Then, “Did you  _ warn  _ him that I’m-”

“Also a social deviant? Yes I did.”

Billy laughed. “Sure. Well I’ll see you then.”

“Cool, we can pick you up.”

Billy took a shower. A very long, very distracted shower, where he probably should have double checked he locked the bathroom door, because jacking off in the house kinda put him on edge, but it was fine. He hadn't had anything new to jerk off to in a while. He thought way too hard about what he was going to wear after, going through all of his clothes, mentally kicking himself for cropping the Everlast shirt and forgetting about it- god, why did he have to be so gay?- and after ages of balancing a ‘I'm a casual and typical merican teenager’ with ‘I’m literally so fucking gay let me seduce you’ he went with something that was… fine. It was fine. 

_ You look fine. _

But getting picked up by Robin and Steve was a trip because sliding into the backseat he could tell Steve and Robin had been talking about…  _ something… _ directly prior. 

That might have been Billy, and also might not have been, (and it wasn't, they were actually arguing over how in god’s name Steve should go about finding out if he liked boys or not, Steve later told Billy), but it put Billy on edge a little. He didn't like to not be in the know. 

But of course no one would pick up on that, Billy knew how to direct a conversation.

Steve warmed up in a few minutes, the awkward start soon forgotten, but the side eyes he kept throwing Billy, even after they got to the mall, even after they’d fallen into more relaxed conversation  _ kept _ Billy on edge. 

“Ok, so wedding attire,” Robin said when they found their way into the first outlet. 

“I mean, pretty standard formal stuff,” Steve started. “But it is in Vermont-”

“My god,  _ Vermont _ .” Billy feigned interest, but it made Robin laugh. 

Steve gave Billy this look, like this almost judgy look that got Billy a little more defensive, but he brushed it off anyway, looking away from Steve to talk again to Robin. 

“I think you should wear that.” Billy pointed to a scandalous (but fashionable) red dress

“You're kidding.” Steve said, like it wasn't obvious. 

“No, yeah.” Billy nodded, fake genuine. “Something that screams ‘I’m secretly a stripper.’ Good conversation starter.”

Robin really was laughing now. “God, I’m glad I brought both of you.”

She made Steve carry all the stuff she picked out, and he gave her real feedback while Billy just kept dicking around for her amusement. He got the feeling Steve didn’t like him stealing the spotlight. He kind of liked how much it irritated Steve. It had always been a bad habit of his to get attention anyway he could- good or bad. And he did want Steve’s attention. 

But Steve couldn’t stay irritated, could he? Billy saw him fighting a smile at least once before they hauled Robin’s options off to the dressing room. There was one of those round cushion seats for both boys to crash on while Robin changed. 

Billy looked around at the many mirrors and even took the opportunity to shoot himself a quick wink- Steve and Robin kept talking as she changed in and out of the first few outfits. But before too long the boys outside ran into a silence.

“You’re pretty good at the whole shopping thing,” Billy told Steve, allotting a compliment just to see how it landed. 

“Thanks,” Steve smiled a little. “I kinda gotta be. My parents are all about, you know, having class.”

“Ah, right. You’re a rich kid.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed a little, still with the amicable smile. “What about you? Why’d you let Robin drag you out?”

“No idea,” Billy laughed. “I hate shopping. Like if I see something I  _ like _ , I’ll snag it, but actual time spent looking for clothes? Nightmare.”

“I thought you were supposed to like shopping,” Steve said, and immediately looked like he wished he hadn't.

Billy felt an almost sour smile hit his lips. “And why’s that?” 

Steve looked a little put on the spot. “Oh, just, uh-”

“You think all pillow-biters gotta be fashionistas?”

“I mean… no.” Steve looked startled at Billy’s bluntness.

“Robin told you that little piece of trivia, huh? I told her she could.”

“I, uh, yeah.” Steve tripped over himself trying to seem at ease. “Not that I care.”

“Oh, of course.” Billy smiled a little. “And I’m not offended. For the record.”

“Oh.” Steve relaxed a little, almost laughed. “Thank god. You know you're pretty intimidating.” 

“Thank you. I know.”

Steve laughed again. “And thanks again for the ride home the other night.”

“Hey, my pleasure.” 

“Gentlemen!” Robin re-emerged from the dressing room. “I think we’ve found something.” She was in the least dress-like dress she could have found. And it suited her, too. 

Steve liked it. Billy said ‘could be worse.’

So they grabbed the things that would look like good Vermont-wedding attire to both Robin and her parents, checked out. 

They stopped in a music shop on the way back out of the mall. It was easier to talk by then, a lot more, actually fun and casual, to the point where Billy could actually make fun of Steve a little- said he looked like he was built to be someone’s boyfriend, carrying the bags of mall paraphernalia- and Steve laughed. 

They branched off on their own in the music shop, each three with wildly different tastes. Billy was just looking at a tape in the display for testing out, pulling the headphones up over his head, when Steve reappeared. 

“What do we have here?” Steve picked up the display cassette box, flipped it over. 

_ Singles Going Steady, The Buzzcocks. _

“It’s this punk band from England,” Billy explained without meaning to, because he didn't usually let people talk to him so easily. 

“Wild name.” Steve smiled a little. “I don’t think I’ve, like, ever listened to punk.”

“Here.” Billy tugged the headphones off from around his neck, held one end of them to offer the other to Steve.

Steve took it without thinking about it, he just sort of did things when he wanted it seemed like. Didn’t question his motives as much as Billy was currently questioning his to get in close quarters, sharing half a headset with this new and very pretty Steve Harrington who was probably straight- no, definitely straight.

_ You’re not in California. _

He shot a glance sideways- god he could smell stupid-expensive hair products, they were standing so close. He saw Steve smiling. 

Shit, that was a pretty smile, wasn't it?

“This is good,” Steve said, looking a little surprised to be into the song. 

Robin walked back over.

“What're you guys listening to?”

Billy left the headphones to Steve, moved to hand Robin the box. 

“Oh my god, The Buzzcocks! Steve, you’re listening to  _ actual _ music?” She was obviously teasing him. 

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, still smiling, headphones all to himself now.

“He has  _ repulsive _ taste in music.” Robin told Billy. “He has ABBA’s entire discography in his car.”

Billy laughed a little. 

Steve tried to defend himself, Billy watched.

This might have been going very well. Steve was hot, he was obviously… something. So Billy could just give it the extra push probably and he’d get the ideal summer fling in this godforsaken town except…

Except he kind of…  _ liked… _ this guy. 

Like, 

Wanted to dig his fingers into Steve’s history of heartbreak that was so apparent, or like, where were his parents? What was up with that? What had he been up to since his fall from grace? He was so… melancholy. And sweet. And oblivious. Kinda irritated Billy, all those things. 

So likely he should let sleeping dogs lie and back out of this whole thing but where Steve fell hard, Billy fell fast.

They hung out the three of them again, got lunch on a Tuesday. Then again later that week. Then Robin invited them both over one afternoon and Steve told Billy how him and Robin got high on Robin’s trampoline one time and how much fun it was and they started swapping stories of the craziest shit they’d done high and Billy mentioned trying to sneak into a gay bar when he was fourteen and Steve seemed… unfazed. 

Good, cool. Lucky. But was it the casualness of disinterest or aloofness of burning curiosity? 

Steve later told him it was the second one.

Later that week, at work, on a particularly slow day, Robin had a chance to be transparent.

“So,” She leaned her weight forward against the front counter. 

“So… what?” Steve was rubbing his hands together to dispel the cold left on them from switching out the tub of Rocky Road. 

“Hanging out with Billy’s pretty fun.”

“I guess.” Steve narrowed his eyes. 

“You guess? That's it? I haven't seen you this cheerful in ages. Maybe ever!”   
“Well, maybe I just like having a friend who I can relate to more.”

Robin mocked offense.

“I just mean he’s also a guy!”

“Too late, I’m devastated.” She teased.

Steve laughed a little.    
“So do you think,” Robin cast a glance around, there was literally no one in the store. “You’d wanna, like...  _ kiss _ -”

“Oh my god.”

“I can stop. I can, you know, totally lay off, if-”

“No, it’s,” Steve took off his uniform cap to run a hand through his hair. “It’s fine. I mean… yeah. Kinda. But it might be nice to just have a friend, you know? I’ve fucked up a lot of my friendships by being stupid like that.”

“I can imagine.”

“What's that thing you say I am?”

“Hopeless romantic.”

“Yeah, that.”

Billy should be thinking about Steve less. Like way less, than this, kind of general wondering about him that he noticed floating around his had like little cartoon birds at any given time.

_ You have a crush on Steve Harrington. _

Shut the fuck up.

_ His stupid hair, his pretty eyes. _

He’s probably straight.

_ What if he’s not? _ _   
_ Even if he isn’t, it’s a stupid idea. What if Billy’s dad found out?

_ Fuck that. _

Yeah, ok, but still. Steve Harrington was-

_ What do you think his spit tastes like? _

Stop-

_ Or his dick? _

Billy got off  _ hard _ thinking about Steve three times in one day. Mostly because he wasn't sleeping so he could just wait out his own turnaround time. Which meant the depraved thoughts of the early morning, because it was two a.m. when he licked some of his own come off his hand and wondered what Steve’s might taste like. His eyelids fluttered, he sighed. It stuck in his throat like bitter oil. It made his skin get hotter. He’d only ever let a guy come in his mouth once but it’d been holy for how utterly disgusting it was. 

Billy should probably brush his teeth.

There was another party that weekend. Because there always was, and it was summer, Billy was never coming back here ever again, so if the opportunity came up to makeout with the sexuality-based-turmoil-ridden Steve Harrington he should just take it, right? Right.

Not like it would get to serious or anything.

So he originally suggested Robin and Steve and him go together and it came up that Robin had family dinner nights and couldn't make it, but Steve still could. 

“You want me to pick you up?” Steve asked innocently enough. “I don’t mind staying decently sober.”

“I mean, I don’t wanna put you out-”

Steve smiled, shook his head. “I used to get shitfaced at these things all the time, the fun wears off.”

Billy let Steve Harrington pick him up from his house, and take him to a party. And it wasn't a date, for sure, he kept telling himself. 

But when he got downstairs to tell his dad he was leaving he got a:

“What, are you going on a date?”

His dad was probably talking about how Billy was dressed. The red shirt, the earring, the cologne.

“No, but like, there’s girls at parties.”

His dad shrugged. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Billy shook off the feeling of being in the house when he stepped outside, electing to wait at the curb for Steve to show up, smoking from stress probably, and wondering if he should take off a ring or two, when Steve finally pulled up and called a casual and easy “hey, man!” that made Billy smile. Steve was so, like, friendly? 

Billy found out that Steve had no poker face, too, because he swung himself into the passenger side and he glanced over to see Steve do an ever so slight double take and blurt:

“I like your earring.”

BIlly had to suppress actual glee. “Thanks. Me too.”

Steve was not expecting this. He’d been thinking about how celebrity-like Billy looked pretty much all day, granted. But he wasn't expecting this level of like….  _ strapping _ . 

Billy looked like the guys on the covers of pulp novels he’d seen moms read. Or like a rock star, caught by paparazzi on a day off. Like  _ jesus _ , you couldn't be more interesting or captivating or- or  _ hot _ , than Billy looked right now. 

It was weird. 

And it was harder to talk to him for a few minutes because of it, but then it was strangely easy. Steve had only got a snapshot of this level of charming before, at the mall, but now it was like, all there was- he almost felt like he was being  _ flirted _ with. Granted, Steve was pretty bad at most social cues, but flirting was not one of them- he was good at flirting. Maybe Billy just had a flirty nature, because they got to the party and Billy could be charming with anyone- the trait that had made Steve so jealous of him before- but some part of that charm, was just for Steve. 

Wasn't Steve supposed to be like, uncomfortable, that Billy might be hitting on him? Like wasn’t that supposed to weird him out?

Because Steve was not gay.

_ Well, you might be. _

Shut up-

“Hey, you went to high school with these people.” Billy gestured at the crowd when they got into the party. “Tell me, Harrington. What kind of shit went down?”

Billy was wondering if he was being maybe too forward after about half an hour of small talk, interspersed in talking to the throngs of people that remembered Billy and were desperate for another taste, but he really had a plan for the evening; just to let Steve know he was interested. 

Which might actually be going pretty well, because Billy thought maybe he dared ask what high school was like for Steve and he got an answer. 

Steve lit up, talked with his hands, and pretty much gave Billy half his life story, complete with unnecessary high school drama, the games he’d played, the girls he’d dated, how many of them had broken his heart besides the obvious and devastating one, how many DUIs he’d gotten and how and who he was with at the time and the time he fractured his wrist jumping off someone's roof and the time he did coke but it might not have actually been coke because it didn't do anything and had Billy ever done coke and what was that like and Steve had always wanted to try ecstasy but he’d been pretty straight laced lately, not being as crazy. 

He just kind of get stoned on occasion, didn't drink very much, and hung out with Robin, who maybe made him feel more regular happy, rather than like, ‘rah rah crazy.’ Like the last crazy thing they did was drive up the cliff behind the quarry to look at the stars in the middle of the night and listen to Robin’s favorite Psychedelic Furs tape. 

“Robin is so alt-y. I never knew anyone like that in high school.” Steve mused. 

“I pretty much only knew people like that in high school,” Billy laughed, “It was weird because populars would talk to me? And it was like, bro, you’ve got me all wrong.”

“Thought you were like, a total metal head?” Steve switched his crossed ankles on the kitchen floor where they were sitting.

“Yeah, but I mean, choose your friends wisely.”

Billy declared he had to find a bathroom and that Steve should ‘wait-right-there-don't-move’ which got one of Steve’s pretty smiles and a ‘I won’t’ in return. 

So Billy was feeling pretty confident about the whole thing until he got back and lo and behold Steve was gone. 

Which prompted at least five full minutes of asking if anyone had seen him with perhaps less tact that Billy had hoped for, until he got directed to the backdoor and opened it to step outside. 

Steve was there, smoking a cigarette by himself in the dark.

“You avoiding me, Harrington?”

Steve turned over his shoulder. “No, just, you know, wanted some air. Sorry to disappear on you.”

Billy walked to sit next to him, sitting back on the palm of his left hand, beer in the right. 

“I don’t need company-”   
“Well, you got it. So, you know, get fucked.”

Steve laughed. He had such a fucking stupid laugh. 

There was a comfortable silence.

“So, why're you out here?” Billy asked. 

“Oh you know, it’s just… weird. For me. Coming to these things sometimes.”

“Makes sense.”

More silence. 

“Hey,” Steve broke it, “Can I ask you something?”

Billy guessed where this was going. “Sure.”

Steve swallowed. “Robin, said, you’re, uh-”

“A total fag?”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve looked jarred.

Billy almost smirked. “So what's the question?’

“...So you’ve like, dated a guy before?” Steve asked. Billy felt his pulse in his throat, but you know, keep it cool. He was totally in control. It was just a better way to survive summer in Indiana. 

“Yeah,” Billy noded, casual. “Couple guys, actually. But I don’t like, seriously date, you know.” Billy added a little smile, trying to get Steve to think he was in the know. People don’t seriously date, obviously, and Billy could be like a casual hookup if Steve wanted to experiment because that could be fun-

“Why not?”   
God, that hit Billy like a ton of bricks. Because even when people asked him personal stuff he could usually brush it off, but Steve was looking at him with those big brown eyes, curious, genuine. The feeling tore through his chest and dug its lithe fingers into the very tissue of his heart, even as he struggled to pull it out.

“Dunno. It’s dumb.” Billy didn’t look at him.

“Why’s it dumb?”

Billy got almost defensive. He could aways tell Steve to fuck off. People never got to know personal things about Billy, not even his friends back home. They only knew what was absolutely necessary to have something to hang on to. But Steve was trying to get him to like, open up or some shit. Like trying to get to know him. Would he let that happen?

“You know like, being a child of divorce, you get a more  _ realistic _ perspective on adult relationships.” Billy leaned back. 

Steve laughed. 

It threw Billy for a fucking loop. Steve’s laugh, brash, stupid, higher pitched than his voice. It was like he didn’t care what kind of show Billy was putting on. Which was honestly kind of frustrating.    
“The fuck are you laughing about?”

“Just, you’re so  _ serious _ .” Steve kept laughing. “I’ve had my heart like,  _ broken _ , and I still think it’s worth it to date people. Even if you don’t get married or whatever. It’s nice.”

“How is it ‘nice’? You’re only allowed to sleep with one person, they want to take up all your free time-”   
“Forget I said anything.” Steve waved him off, still smiling. 

Billy folded his arms, blew smoke out his nose. 

“So I take it you’re over Miss Nancy Wheeler, then.”

Steve’s smile got dimmer. Billy felt bad about it. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Steve studied his hands. 

“What, was she really all that?”

“No, it’s just… nevermind.”   
“Oh, now I gotta know.”

“You’re gonna give me shit.”

“Right, so tell me.”

Steve looked up, not just over the yard, but up, picking out stars in the summer sky. “I guess I get lonely easily. It’s not that I miss her, I just miss, you know, the  _ feeling _ .”

_ This is the perfect segue.  _

“So get with someone else.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Just, like,  _ who _ , you know? I don’t really have a lot of friends right now, let alone people who’d wanna hook up with me. Obviously not Robin.”

Billy nodded understandingly. 

_ Here we go, here we go. _

“Well, if you run out of ideas, you always have me.” Billy made to stand up. 

“What?” Steve looked up at him, surprised. 

“No time like the present to see if you’re into dick or not, Harrington.”

Billy left. Walked back through most of the party, looking for some rando to talk to until something happened. And maybe nothing would happen. He said his bit. And it wasn't the end of the world if Steve didn’t bite. He’d probably find out in like a week or something-

A hand touched Billy’s arm. “Hey.” 

Billy turned around. All calm long gone, he found himself looking at Steve, who was still holding Billys’ arm, like he needed to keep him in place. He smelled like nighttime in the summer. His hand was so warm.

“Hey.” Billy said back, unsure.

Steve looked him up and down, lips parted. “Have you been to the quarry yet?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“It’s pretty cool at night. If you wanna check it out.”

It was a good thing Steve was still holding onto him, kept him grounded. His heart rate was going a mile a minute. 

“Like right now?”

“Yeah, like right now.”

“Sure.”

Which is how Billy found himself being led out the front door of the party and into Steve’s car, passenger side- it smelled like new car still. And driven out to this moonlight filled rock pit- they didn't have quarries in California he told Steve, and Steve was pretty good at talking to him by now, but the excitment bulidng in Billy’s chest had him waiting for Steve to just shut up so he could try and kiss him which was so dumb because he shouldnt be this  _ excited  _ but kissing Steve he was just supposed to be a hook up and nothing more than a hook up- god Steve was still talking and Billy wasn’t listening at all- 

Whatever happened this was sure to be fun. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Steve sounded almost coy.

“No, not at all.” Billy smiled his well practiced, irresistible smile, looking down at Steve’s lips, back up at his eyes- it was almost like a grade school dare.

Steve looked like the most seduced deer in the headlights Billy had ever seen.

He wondered briefly if, as he leaned in, Steve would lean away, or stay still, or something, but this wasn't Steve’s first time at kissing someone who, really, he met at a party, because he tilted his head, and let his eyes close. 

Billy kissed him. Short and sweet though, because he pulled away after maybe a second and watched Steve fall forward a little, clearly dying for more. 

“Congrats, Harrington.” Billy grinned. “You've kissed a guy. How do you feel?”

Steve looked up at him, surprised, confused, and something else. Something like awe. It made Billy feel vulnerable in a way he didn't usually. 

Then Steve smiled a little. “The same, I guess?”   
“You guess?”

“I mean, it was hardly even a kiss.” Steve was really grinning now. 

“Think I should give you a couple more? Just to be sure?”

“Just to be sure.” Steve repeated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave ur first gay kiss stories in the comments if u want! mine was playing the pocky challenge with a friend in high school OR it was making out with a girl who was a year older than me at summer camp behind the water tower after curfew


	4. Fascinating New Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the song F.N.T. by Semisonic which was the ANTHEM for this fic so if you want the results of the vibe check go take a listen!  
> here's the playlist for the fic as a whole: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3mId5YRMIcI6DdAB01xku5?si=LOgsPiVgQX2e01mRi7LZQg
> 
> also there's dick sucking in this chapter :p

Steve tried to not drive drunk ever. But he downgraded to not often, and then to just not as much, but he was sure he’d be safe to drive last night, but maybe just tipsy enough that when he woke up the next day and the first thought that shot like lightning through his head was that he had  _ kissed _ a  _ boy, _ he panicked a little. 

Holy shit.

Holy  _ shit _ .

HOLY SHIT- calm down. 

Oh but that wasn't allowed! You’re not allowed to kiss boys and be a boy! That’s like, super, not in line!   
And he- fuck he’d liked it too! Well maybe he just liked kissing. But he remembered kissing Billy and thinking  _ ‘I'm kissing a boy, this is amazing _ ’ and THAT WAS NOT ALLOWED.

Oh but it was so  _ fun _ though. 

He needed to calm down, he was freaking out and it was only 9am.

After pacing his room for a frantic few minutes he called Robin. 

“He-llo?” She always answered the phone kind of musically. 

“Hey, Rob, it’s me.”

“Well good morning Dingus, to what do I owe the pleasure-?”

Steve barely even registered her talking. “I kissed Billy.”

“Holy SHIT-” She started screaming. Steve heard most of it even though he’d pulled the receiver back from his head a bit. 

“Well, technically,” Steve said after a pause. “He kissed me- we made out for a bit-”

More screaming from Robin. 

Then, “Wait how do you feel? How was it? Did you like it?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know if- well I mean, yeah, I liked it, but that-s thats not- I’m not gay.”

“Oh I know  _ that. _ Your head’s on a fucking  _ swivel _ when it comes to girls. You’re allowed to like both, you know-”

“Well yeah but I’m not gay.”

“You don’t have to be anything! You can just say you like kissing! In general!”

“And who am I saying that to?” Steve almost laughed.

“Yourself.” Robin said like it was obvious. 

How  _ did _ Steve feel? Weird. Good. Weird. He didn't know. 

Was Billy at least a good kisser? Oh, yeah. Totally. 

Could they still hang out as friends?

Of course. 

Obviously, that wouldn't be weird. 

But later that day, when Robin snagged Billy to have lunch with them, Billy shot Steve this smile that made his neck go all warm and then acted like, super normal. Not like nothing happened, but just like nothing had happened that needed any further social adjustments. 

Like it was normal. 

And just as they were all about to part ways, Billy glanced a hand over Steve’s forearm and said “Let me know if you’re free later.”

“If, if I’m free?”

“That’s what I said.” Billy grinned even more, clearly happy that Steve was off-balance. 

“I, uh, yeah. I’ll let you know.”

Steve and Robin had work directly after, which meant Steve’s panic at the invitation to once again suck face with  _ another boy _ was communicated to Robin in covert snatches between customers.

“Well do you want to?-” Robin whispered before turning around all customers service mode. “Hi sir! What can I get for you today?” Robin whispered before turning around all customer service mode. 

“I mean yeah but it's so  _ weird- _ you said whipped cream on that?”

“Do you feel like that or do you feel like you  _ should _ feel like that?- All together? That‘s $8.75.”

And finally.

“Did you have  _ fun _ ?” As soon as people cleared out of the parlor. “Like, before?”

“I mean. Yeah. It was,” Steve laughed a little. “It was really fun. More fun than I’ve had in awhile, like that.”

Robin smiled. “So maybe...hook up with him again?”

“Maybe.”

Maybe meant yes. 

They hooked up again.

Several times. 

Whatever was happening, Steve was very into it. 

Billy cornering him at random times with a smile and a wink and words like ‘busy later?’ The way he said them made Steve’s stomach practically invert. 

Billy would get him alone, after a party or just in the evening, they'd get junk food and drive out to the quarry, and Billy would just kiss him for hours. It was incredible, like a first kiss every time, and Billy was good but he just got  _ better _ , acclimating to every little thing Steve liked. 

But it just made him wonder how Billy liked to be kissed. He thought he had some guesses, things that made Billy sigh a little- a departure from his usual silence, which had Steve suppressing moans when Billy would kiss his neck. So, one night, experimentally, curiosity and arousal driving him forward, Steve slid his hands up Billy’s legs, nearly to the join at his hips, and dug his fingers in. 

Billy gasped, pulled away.

“Is that, like, ok?” Steve asked. 

“Yeah,” Billy nodded, he looked more vulnerable than Steve had ever seen him. Then the devilish grin was back. “Just wasn't expecting you to stop keeping your hands to yourself.”

And maybe just to get Billy alone again, maybe as a coy joke, Steve kept making it out like he didn't know if he really liked kissing boys- kissing Billy- or not. 

Maybe for awhile he actually didn’t know. In the times in between seeing Billy - because now there were suddenly only two kinds of time to spend, with Billy and without Billy - or whenever Steve was alone. He’d think maybe he wasn't totally sure if he liked what they were doing, when he was alone after, or before, but he definitely didn't dislike it, and obsessively thought about what he could try the next time, and the next, because  _ did he like kissing boys?  _ Or just kissing?

Or did he like… Billy. Like specifically. 

Like how his car smelled like cigarettes and sun-bent plastic and leather. Or his sick-and-twisted sense of humor. 

But he sort of, you know. 

Liked

Billy. 

In a way that felt like jealousy but good. If jealousy could feel good. Like he wanted something Billy had. And he wanted to see more of him, learn more of him, but Billy was so… mysterious. Alluring, Steve thought the word was. 

Like, not knowing made you want to know all the more.

It was weird, too, because far away as Billy’s inner workings were from Steve’s access, he also got the privilege of Billy straddling his legs in the backseat of his car, grinding down through layers of clothes more aggressively than Steve had ever gotten with a girl- it drove him wild. He let Billy make him moan a little, even though they were still just at kissing- but kissing hot and heavy nearly every night that week, like Billy knew what he was doing to Steve, like he’d unlocked something he’d had keys to even before.

“Do you do this a lot?” Steve asked, voice free of judgment, one night when they’d stopped for a breather and a cigarette and Billy looked like he knew Steve’s head inside and out even if Steve knew he didn’t- master of puppets. 

“What, corrupt sweet-and-innocent-all-American boys?”   
“Yeah, I guess.” Steve laughed a little.

“I used to. Haven't in a while.”

Steve didn't ask what that meant. 

On a bad- or maybe just worse- sunday, Billy left his house in a hurry.

_ Why are you still afraid of him? _

Nothing had even really happened, Billy had just gotten a more direct talking-to, reminding him that he wasn’t wanted here, his dad had made that abundantly clear, and his dad barely even yelled so why was he still fighting back tears as he grabbed his jacket and walked out of the house?

_ Why are you still afraid of him? _

Billy was almost a fucking adult and he fucking flinched right there in front of his dad when he moved too quick Billy had fliched and he was going to be an adult-

_ Just stop thinking about it. _

If you get it right, or wrong maybe, you can lose yourself in a kiss. Or at least lose your brain for a few minutes, run ahead of it, maybe fast enough to get down and dirty for a couple of hours and not have to think about anything at all until it’s over. 

But you have to stay ahead of the ugly thoughts rattling around in your head, have to push them down hard as possible and god if you do it wrong, you’ll end up feeling like your skin’s made of plastic and your stomach ate itself for hours- like the college party incident.

Billy did it wrong.

He got out of his house as fast as possible, called Steve from his new favorite payphone with a blunted “What are you doing right now?” that got him an invite to Steve’s house. 

Which he’d never been to before by himself. 

In this capacity. 

And he could tell once he got there that maybe this had been a bad idea, because Steve asked him if he wanted a tour and Billy said ‘just show me where your room is’ and in minutes got Steve half hard on his surprisingly expensive bed before he felt panic rise in his throat and he couldn't keep it up anymore. 

“Wait- fuck- stop.” Billy pushed off. “Harrington, stop.”

Steve let go, leaned back. Billy looked at him, and he looked so fucking concerned, surprised, it made Billy look away.

“Are you-”

“Don’t.” Billy cut him off.

“Ok.” Steve was very much keeping his hands to himself. 

Billy pressed fingertips to his eyelids, looked up, ran a hand through his hair.

“Do you want me to-”

“Don’t talk.”

Steve nodded. 

Billy had to think his way out of this. But god he couldn't do that, he couldn't do anything with his throat contracting and his eyes trying to betray him-

“You can, like, go, if you want. I won't be, you know, offended or anything-”

“No.” No way in hell was Billy going home. 

Steve nodded again. 

There was a long silence, Billy hoped Steve wouldn't say anything again for at least a solid ten minutes, and he kinda wanted Steve to go away, but he kind of wanted to hang onto him too, and then Steve did speak again.

“You know, I uh,” Billy looked up at Steve finally. But Steve wasn't looking at him, he was casting a glance to his dresser. “I have some weed left if you wanted to just like, hang out, do that.”

Billy almost laughed. God, that was the perfect thing to say. Out of all the unhelpful, clumsy, and blunt things Steve could say, he’d said that.

“Sure.” Billy smiled a little. 

Which is how Billy ended up holding a first, then second joint - Steve was surprisingly good at rolling them- sitting on Steve’s bedroom floor flicking through his records. 

“I’m guessing this is from Robin.” Billy lifted a Cure record from the shelf. 

“Yeah, she’s trying to get me to ‘branch out’.” Steve reached out a hand for the joint back from where he lay with his head hanging off the bed. 

Billy suppressed a laugh at ‘branch out’. “God that’s such a weird saying. Are you a tree?”

Steve laughed. 

It was really easy being high with Steve. Billy learned that lesson the hard way when he was fairly young that being high can suck if you're with the wrong people. 

Steve re-offered the house tour, lifting his head up from its resting place on his bed.

“Such a gentleman.” Billy pushed his head away.

“I try.” Steve’s finger grazed Billy’s wrist. It was such a delicate touch. 

Steve, big enough to clip a couple wall corners with his shoulder, gave Billy a tour of his house. Out of his room, into the hall, which hall doors led to which other rooms, down the stairs, lined with family photos, the living room, the den, the kitchen. Inevitably they stopped in the kitchen and ate half the fridge just the two of them, because what else were you supposed to do when you were high with your hookup in a massive, empty house?

There was this weird moment, too, through the high giggling and weird food combinations, where Billy caught Steve looking at him with something like unguarded curiosity, and he thought maybe this summer wasn't going too bad in its first weeks. 

They hung out casually, with Robin usually, in a non-hookup setting pretty regularly. 

And Steve had lots of other stuff going on, other than obsessively thinking about that fact that he was swapping spit with  _ a boy _ on the  _ regular _ and e _ njoying the shit out of it _ and feeling more alive than he had in weeks.

But he never could keep his feelings out of a thing like this for long, and pretty soon, Steve stopped sleeping all together. 

He told himself he was trying to sleep, but he might not have been. Being awake and alive felt like such a strange thing but he liked doing it. Liked the spare time, alone in the house, to think about nothing or think about Billy and just feel. He would put records on really quiet in his room and lay on the floor and think and feel and sometimes that turned into jacking off but the come down of thinking about Billy while he did it was so- weird. Not really good or bad? It just made him feel kinda weird. He didn’t know if he liked that part.

He should probably be trying harder to sleep.

When he was little and he couldn't sleep sometimes his mom would give him warm milk with honey in it. One of the few times she acted like she actually had a son. 

When he was older he’d make it for himself, sit on the kitchen counter by the microwave and pull the door before it went off. Silent as ever in the house he lived in, but never felt at home in. 

He did that one night, unable to sleep, touching his bottom lip reverently until it chapped, until he could remember the kind of sore it felt after Billy’d bit it. 

Steve had never kissed anyone who bit him before- he liked it. It made him feel… wanted. Somehow.

He pulled the door on the microwave, moving slower, more carefully so as to muffle the clink of the mug set on the marble kitchen counter. He could see the steam curling up off of it. He pulled honey down from the cabinet his mom kept all her fancy teas in and sweetened it. Then he put it back, licked the finger that had gotten sticky from it. 

He paused, his finger still pressed partway into his mouth. He pressed his tongue against it, and wondered if his finger felt the bumps of his taste buds, or if his tongue felt the divots of his finger. Both, probably. He pulled his hand away, stared at the shininess of his spit in the dim light of the kitchen. God, it must have been 2 am. 

He wiped his hand on his sweatpants, grabbed the warm mug of milk, took the first sip on his way back to the stairs. 

Milk and honey. Sweet, thick, syrupy, creamy. Milk and honey. 

Sometimes, people called California the land of milk and honey. 

Billy was a boy from the land of milk and honey. He looked like it, felt like it, tasted like it. Warm, sweet, weighted on your lips. 

Steve felt heat slide down his throat when he swallowed.

He touched his lip again.

Steve convinced Robin to come with him to the pool.

She hated pools because she hated wearing bathing suits, which wasn't an issue steve pressed, he’d been there. But she agreed faster than he expected this time around. 

Probably because she wanted to see this whole, ‘let’s find out if Steve likes boys’ thing through. 

And he definitely did, even if he didn't quite know it yet. 

When they got the pool, Robin toting a Virginia Woolf novel and a sunhat her mom made her borrow, and Steve in perfectly fitted blue swim trunks and a towel over his toned shoulders, Robin waited with tv-show-like anticipation for Billy to show.

Steve hadn't really ever gotten like this about seeing any guys shirtless before. It twisted somewhere deep down in his guts and he thought maybe he liked it. 

“Didn’t know California Boy had a tattoo.” Robin mused, before looking over at Steve and laughing out loud at his expression.

“Shut up I hate you.” Steve pushed her a little, but she kept laughing. “You’re making a scene.”

“I doubt anything could make more of a scene than Billy walking all of ten feet from the locker rooms to his fucking  _ pool throne _ .”

Steve also was aware that he’d shown up at Billy’s place of work in broad daylight to just make occasional charged eye contact with him from across the pool. 

Eye contact that escalated to conversation when Steve showed up at the pool again later that week, and then a third time, by himself at the end of the day. 

Billy knew how to be direct, but he didn't often use it, opting instead to get at people in little ways, harder to detect, more effective.

Direct seemed to be Steve’s only mode of function. 

Like he was testing the waters, he kept staring at Billy across the pool, Billy had to literally tear his eyes away to do his job.

Clearly Steve didn't see much sun, but he was damn good to look at in less and less clothes.

Just for fun. You know. 

Which is probably why the third time- third times the charm, right? - Steve showed up at the pool, stayed late, waiting for Billy to get off, with just a passing: “didn’t see your car” met with “saving gas money” finished with “want a ride home?”

Sure, Billy wanted a ride home. 

Until they were the only two people left at the pool.

“I can stop coming by,” Steve said to the silence as Billy shoved things back in his over-packed work locker. “If you don’t want.”

“Nah, I want.” Billy smiled easily. “My only concern is you blinding pool goers with that snowy complexion of yours.” Billy ran a hand across Steve’s shoulder.

Steve tried not to react too much to the touch, pushing Billys’ hand off with a short laugh. “Fuck off.”

“Hey, no shame in never going outside.”

“I’m outside plenty-”

“Yeah, to see me.” Billy was teasing him, Steve could tell. 

Steve felt a grin spread across his face. “No, for the vitamin D.”

“Damn, thought I had you actually interested for a second there.” Billy closed his locker finally. 

“I never said I wasn't-”

“Oh, but remember, you said you don’t know if you _actually_ _like_ kissing boys-”  
“I like kissing you.”

Billy paused for a split second, grinning. “What’s that?”

“I…” Steve blushed a little, but did nothing to hide it. The color made him somehow prettier. “Even if I don't like kissing boys, I like it with you. It’s all I think about.”

“I corrupted you.”

“I like to think I was involved in my own corruption.” Steve mumbled.

Billy leaned in, lips hovering over a well known part of Steve’s neck, to whisper. “Want me to give you something new to think about, Harrington?”

Steve’s breath hitched. “Sure.”

The pool was closed. The two of them were the last people there, but there was something thrilling about Billy dragging Steve into the men's showers at Hawkins Pool to mess around.

He’d barely taken in his surroundings when Billy shoved him hard up against the still-wet tile of a shower stall wall, kissed him again. Steve felt the warmth of the wall, the humidity that hung in the air. Billy tasted like chlorine and spit and sunlight. His skin was warmer than anything around them. Like a piece of the sun itself. 

Steve gasped a little when Billy groped down the front of his swim trunks, the only thing between Billy’s hand and Steve’s dick that thin layer of polyester. His hips tilted forward without meaning too, he felt suddenly that he wanted nothing more than to know what it was like to live in Billy’s skin, the warmth that dwelled there, like the summer sun baked earth, like sand on a beach, like blood in his veins. He wanted that humidity to be the only air he breathed. 

He nearly blacked out, nearly came right then and there when Billy sank to his knees on the grimy tile floors of the pool showers and pressed his mouth against the bulge in Steve’s trunks. Steve braced his arms on either side of the stall, his breathing got shaky. 

“What are-” It took all Steve’s wherewith all to speak. 

“I can stop-”

“No.” Steve looked down at Billy looking up at him through thick lashes, sliding his hands up Steve’s thighs. “Don’t- don’t stop.”

Billy didn’t break eye contact with him when he stuck his tongue against Steve and his eyelids fluttered. Steve could hear Billy inhale through his nose. 

Billy needed to breath exclusively this smell. 

This Steve-hard-in-his-swim-trunks-on-a-summer-evening smell. He got kind of carried away for the amount of experience he had, it was hard to not overdo it on the spit. His mouth was literally watering, and still he hadn't seen Steve more dressed down than this. But christ, he wanted to. 

“Can I-” Billy tugged at the waistband of Steve’s trunks. 

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice was so breathy already. 

Billy swallowed, trying to seem calm, collected, trying to feel that way, too, because he’d done this loads of times with loads of boys but this felt  _ different _ . Like it meant something more than the others did. Not just fun, but…  _ special _ . 

And Billy lost his damn mind when he finally pulled Steve’s trunks down. 

He’d heard a couple rumors along these lines, but nothing like the thing in person. Steve was  _ hung _ .

“ _ Jesus _ , Harrington.” Billy said almost reflexively. God, he wanted to  _ choke _ on it. 

“Sorry,” Steve’s brow furrowed. “I know-”

“Don’t you dare fucking apologise for this.” Billy could feel the spit collecting behind his tongue again. He was going to fucking love this. 

Steve had to close his eyes when he first felt Billys’ tongue against him, licking up from the underside of his dick- he couldn't handle it. He let his head fall back against the wall, pressed harder with his hands against the stall divider, not daring to look down when he felt the hot-wet dive of Billy’s mouth around him. His thoughts kind of short circuited into three main ones which were that Billy was a  _ boy _ and that was  _ insane _ and whatever he was doing felt good- felt amazing- Steve had to brace himself against it a little. It felt perfect. Steve had gotten blowjobs but from girls and girls could be good but it was like Billy  _ understood _ which he  _ did _ because he was  _ also a boy _ -

Steve’s hips bucked forward, way quicker than he expected. 

He looked down, and god he shouldn’t have, because there was Billy, on his knees, just then pulling off to roll his tongue across Steve’s slit gratuitously, like the best blowjob of Steve’s life was no big deal. He caught Steve looking, his eyes twinkled. He pulled back further, working Steve with his hand a couple of times as he said:

“You taste good.”

Steve felt a short laugh break his chest- he ached with desire. 

Keeping his hand where it was, Billy went back to wrapping his lips around Steve, bobbing his head again, and Steve should look away he should look  _ away- _

“Billy, I’m gonna-” Steve tried, but instead of pulling away, Billy leaned forward, took his hand away, and fully deepthroated Steve’s dick for the few seconds before Steve came. He’d closed his eyes but he could  _ feel  _ it, hear Billy gag ever so slightly- Steve didn’t blame him, he knew he was a lot. Billy pulled away enough to get most of it in his mouth, a luxury of a thing, Steve felt like he’d died. He vaguely registered his knees giving out, Billy catching his hips against the wall to stop him from falling. He felt like he'd been wrung out, fallen asleep in the sun. 

Billy let him slide down against the wall, slowly, to sit in front of him- he was still coming down sort of. Steve sighed when Billy shifted closer to him, tired, alive.

“Goddamn.” Steve said, arm resting over Billy’s shoulder. “Are you-”

Billy cut him off by grabbing his hand and bringing it to his lips. 

Steve's mouth dropped open, he struggled to so much as groan when Billy pressed Steve’s fingers into his mouth. Come dripped from where Steves index and middle finger broke his Billy’s apart. Steve curled his fingers behind Billy’s teeth and Billy let his mouth open further, let Steve’s come and his own spit drip onto the ground between them, down Steve’s palm. 

Steve looked broken, dazed, overwhelmed, moving his fingers further into Billy’s mouth without thinking about it, feeling the slick stickiness slide between his fingers, against Billy’s tongue. 

“Christ.” Steve mumbled. 

Billy pulled Steve’s fingers from his mouth to swallow. 

“Did you just fucking swallow?” Steve looked awestruck.

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s- holy shit. Holy  _ shit _ .”

“You’re welcome.” Billy grinned, leaning closer to Steve’s ear, kissing the skin just behind it. Steve’s body shuddered. 

“Think you can stand?” Billy whispered coyly.

“I can try.” Steve whispered back, pressing his hands to Billy’s chest between them. 

Billy kissed him. It tasted vulgar and warm. “Wait but don’t you need to-”

“I can do it.”

“...Can I?” Steve panted out, pulling back from Billy. 

Billy’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Yeah.”

There was what would be an awkward shift, but it wasn't, with the blissful giddiness in the air, Billy sitting back, undoing his jeans to slide down, leaning back against the wall, an invitation for Steve to crowd him against it.

“God, you’re so hot.” Steve murmured when he leaned closer. Billy laughed, slid his legs part, felt the edge of an uneven tile press into his heel. 

He felt the raw electricity when Steve first put a hand on him, but felt it even more sideways than usual when he felt the slickness of Steve’s come and his own spit still on Steve’s hand. Steve knew what he was doing, obviously, but he was so particular about it, Billy watched Steve’s expression, just something to focus on, because Steve was looking down at Billy, rock hard between them, like he was entranced. Like the literal minor god that was Steve Harrington, the puppy eyes and gentle colors, somehow paled in Steve’s eyes to the sight of Billy like this, with his legs apart and his breathing ragged while he let Steve jerk him off in the pool showers.

It didn’t take very long. 

Steve felt Billy’s hips jerk forward, felt Billy’s dick twitch in his hand. 

Billy’s finger’s dug into Steve’s shoulder hard enough to leave welts under his nails when he came, all over steve’s hand, up his wrist. It was so hot- Steve felt like he was different somehow- or maybe just the same. Billy was staring at him, and Steve thought they’d be unfocused like he's got, like maybe he’d be somewhere else, but Billy was right there. Right fucking there, with him, in this grimey shower stall that seemed now like a roman bath and he coudl hear crickets in the summer evening outside. 

“Kiss me.” Billy said, like he wasn’t sure what would happen if he said it.

Steve kissed him, come-covered hand resting now on Billy’s thigh. 

Billy still tasted faintly like him. Steve pulled back, looked down at his hand. He knew Billy was staring at him. He didn't care. He brought the stickiness on his fingers up to his mouth, pressed his tongue to it. 

“It tastes the same.”

Billy grabbed his face to kiss him again. 

_ It tastes the same.  _

Like Steve had read his fucking mind. Billy felt like he was in free fall-  _ it tastes the same.  _

To be close enough enough to someone to compare the taste of your desire- it was more than he thought he’d ever get- more than he could handle.

When he got home later in the evening, avoided his dad, went to bed early- he was exhausted- he pressed a hand, flat to the guest bed that has stopped smelling like Guest Room- and wished, in not so many words, that Steve were there. 

He didn’t try and stop himself from thinking it- thought it with near abandon. 

_ God, I wish he were here.  _


	5. The Only Test You Want To Fail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some smut, some fluff, some angst- it's a three for one deal! :D  
> also WOOOOAAHAHHH WERE HALFWAYYYY THEREEEEEEE- finish the song lyric in the comments, wrong answers only !

Of course Billy wondered if he should stop. Stop before it got too serious, before he felt too much. 

But for all his claimed ‘realism’ about relationships, he was too proud to quit now. 

Quitting would mean there was something serious enough to quit. 

So instead he watched Steve becoming captivated by him and did nothing but encourage it. 

And refused to admit he felt the same. 

Billy, in an effort to stay out of his house, spent more time at Steve’s. 

Billy realized he didn’t usually get to be so comfortable when he’d hook up with people. 

And even if he and Steve were still just hooking up, Billy wasn't sure he would call it casual. 

They got to spend loads of time in Steve’s actual bed when they spent time together. His bed which had like, a million thread count sheets and down-stuffed pillows and a blue comforter sized for a king, even though the mattress was a queen, because Steve liked creature comforts. They’d been making out on the thing for a while, gotten high beforehand on Steve’s par weed so Billy had the feeling that maybe time was a little fake, and the only thing that was real was Steve laughing and tugging Billy’s shirt off so he could slide a hand up his chest, feel the warm gold under his practically alabaster fingertips, knuckles perpetually flushed red.

That was the first time Steve ever asked to suck Billy off, and admitted freely he had no fucking clue how to go about doing it. 

“I can teach you.” Billy half teased.

Steve was a quick learner, always had been. So now, Billy was leaning back against Steve’s headboard, one arm up to hold onto the top edge of it while he walked Steve through the thing - “Like-  _ yeah _ , just like that.” 

He still had half a joint in his right hand, his left keeping even pressure on the back of Steve’s head. Steve was pretty good for a beginner, but he still hand to come up for air a couple times, eyes watering from the smoke that hung in the air and the effort it took to breathe only through his nose. Even when Steve kept a hand on Billy, kept working him while he tried to catch his breath, Billy slapped his cheek lightly, not even enough to turn his head - “Can’t stop now, pretty boy,” - and rooted his hand in Steve’s hair again. 

But Billy wouldn't have come in Steve’s mouth on his first-ever try- if Steve hadn’t basically insisted, resisting Billy’s hand pulling him back up and being determined enough to get Billy riding his orgasm out, slightly deeper than either had prepared for. Billy felt the back of Steve’s throat for a glorious split second, before Steve gagged. He pulled back off Billy, pushing himself up on his hands, come and spit dripping down his chin.

The sound it made - sticky and gurgling- could have made Billy come all on its own. 

Steve was panting, pearly white rolling over his lower lip even as he tried to wipe most of it off, his brow furrowed when he said, “Is it ok I didn’t swallow?” 

“Yeah,” Billy said, like of course it was. Holy shit of course it was. 

“You- that was good?”

“That was fucking great.” Billy almost laughed. Steve looked so concerned, and Billy was so wiped out from just that, maybe because he was high, maybe because Steve was a natural. 

Billy pulled Steve closer, grabbed his chin, still slick and sticky in places, thumbed over his lip. “God, you look so fucking dirty, baby.”

Steve smiled. “Love it when you call me that.”

_ “Love it when you call me that.” _

The phrase clattered around in Billy’s head  _ constantly _ for days after that. Steve was high, and people exaggerate when they were high, and Billy had started calling Steve ‘baby’ just because it meant Steve would look back at him like he was king of something, worthy of a crown. 

It all came too easily. 

When Billy’s mom asked him how he was that week, he paused a little before a simple and genuine “good.”

Steve started doing that thing he always did- puppying. Robin called him out on it. 

“You keep puppying after Billy like he’s some sort of god or some shit.”

“What? No, I’m. I just. Like hanging out with him.”

“And getting blowjobs from him.”

“Why do I tell you things?”

But Steve had definitely started puppying, and there was some truth to what Robin was saying. Steve was definitely putting Billy on like a pedestal of coolness. 

And Robin reminded Steve that he should be gentler with his heart, it could only take so much damage. 

Steve didn’t want to believe he was at that point of no return yet, even if he was, even if he never had a choice in it. 

Billy had been a jealous son of a bitch his whole life. He knew that, was well aware of it. 

But he told himself a million times he would not get jealous over anything to do with Steve Harrington, because it was the summer, and they were friends, hooking up for fun because why not? Surviving a summer in Indiana being as queer as Billy was hard enough already, he may as well enjoy himself. 

And he wasn't jealous of Robin, mostly because he'd seen Robin gag at the mention of Steve in any sexual context a million times- Billy said shit like that on purpose just to get a rise out of her. 

But Billy was jealous, of Nancy. 

Nancy Wheeler, who had introduced them properly in the first place, and used to date Steve, and who Steve was barely over, but would still talk to, because they were friends or something. 

Billy knew what it was to try to get over someone. To still see them and still go electric because of them. 

He didn't want Steve feeling that way about anyone else. He didn't want Steve to feel anything like that for anyone but him. Just him. 

So one night, at a party (the last one they went to, funnily enough), Billy started being kind of a bitch about it.

Robin was right. 

Steve was too invested, he was telling himself, too deep, because here he was, At one of the never-ending parties that weekend, watching as Billy leaned in closer to listen to some girl he’d picked out of the crowd with pretty, dark hair, Steve felt his spit go sour in an ugly way. He tried never to be jealous. Never. Because it was just him being insecure about people liking him, wasn't it? 

Or it was the never-ending affection he craved that he never got. 

He wanted all that attention to himself, even if he was loathe to tell Billy that. 

But god, coming back from getting water- fucking water- and seeing Billy hook a piece of the girl’s hair behind her ear made him livid for a terrivel split second. And then it just made him sad. 

He caught Billy’s eye but looked away, shaking it off, pushing through people to get outside. 

He almost made it back to his car, too, before he heard boots on concrete and 

“Hey, Harrington.”

Steve stopped.

Billy tugged his shoulder to turn him around. Steve let him.

“What’s wrong?” Billy asked him.

“Nothing.” Steve was a bad liar.

“Bullshit. What’s wrong?”

“It’s- It’s not important.”

“Don’t be a bitch about it. Tell me.”

Steve closed off a little. “Don’t call me a bitch.”

“Just tell me what’s wrong-”   
“I’m jealous, ok? Jesus.” Steve took a step back from Billy. 

Billy felt a halfway unpleasant twinge in his stomach-  _ he’s jealous _ .  _ You made him jealous. You got him jealous. _

Billy didn't talk so Steve spoke again.

“But, you know, I shouldn't be. We’re not…  _ together _ or anything. So it’s not your problem if I’m jealous.”

Billy was consumed with guilt and ecstatic at the same time. On the one hand, hurting Steve in any way felt morally wrong by this point, on the other he was  _ jealous _ . He wanted all Billy’s quick wit and rough kisses to be  _ his _ . 

_ Exclusively _ . 

Steve wanted a piece of Billy all to himself. And he felt bad about admitting it. 

“Are you pissed?” Steve asked him.

“What?” That caught Billy off guard a little. “No.”

“Oh.”

“Why would I be?”

“We’re-” Steve tripped over his words. “I mean, we’re not a thing- like I said. I don’t wanna like- tell you what to do- It’s not your problem how i-”

“It could be my problem,” Billy said all at once. 

Steve relaxed a little. “What?”

“If you’re jealous. That could be my problem. I can cool it with the whole.” Billy waved a hand in the direction of the party. 

“You don’t have to-” Steve looked surprised and doubtful.

“I’d like to.” Billy looked painfully unguarded for a second. “I can get pretty jealous, too.”

Steve looked at him, all uncertainty. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” Billy asked, almost defensively.

“Just… I dunno. I didn’t expect you to want to, you know, be like, exclusive or whatever.”

“Why, cause I’m such a manwhore-”

“No.” Steve cut him off, shook his head. Billy got the feeling Steve didn't like it when he said things like that about himself. “I was surprised, because… in the past, I’ve been kinda, let down. About stuff like that.”

“Nancy cheated on you?” Billy saw from Steve’s face that he was at least a little right, and found himself getting pissed off. 

“I mean, I don’t think so she just-”

“Jesus Christ, I  _ hate _ her.”

Steve laughed in spite of himself. “She’s not so bad-”

“Yeah, agree to disagree. She’s the whole reason I was fucking jealous in the first place.”

“Really?” Steve looked wide eyed.

“You’re so fucking dumb,” Billy mumbled, patting down his jacket pockets looking for a cigarette. 

“I- Ok, for the record, I would never get back with Nancy-”

“Because she sucks-”   
“No, she does not- well. Ok,” Steve laughed again. “Ok, maybe she sucks a little. But you're way better so it doesn't matter.”

Billy stilled at the words. 

_ ‘You’re way better.’ _

“Yeah,” Billy said instead, cocky as ever. “I am better.” Then, “You wanna get out of here?”

Steve smiled at Billy, a smile exclusively for him.

“So what are you, like, secret dating?” Robin asked as they walked from work to Steve’s car out in the Starcourt lot. 

“I guess.” Steve smiled at the ground. He looked up to find Robin grinning at him.

“What?”

“Nothing!” She twisted her shoe on the concrete a little for the light crackling sound. “You just seem really happy.”

“Well, I haven't gotten to do, you know, anything like this for a while.”

“You’re a slut for romance.”

“Shut up” He laughed.

  
  


Where begins passion, so ends sanity. 

So both boys went a little crazy. 

Every waking hour that they weren't at work they were together. Obsessively spending time together, which might have been bad but work separated them enough to keep them both at the edge of sane. And Robin was happy to watch it all unfold- Steve still hung with her all the time Billy was at work. She could almost feel the happiness radiating from him.

And time both boys were together was an endless future anecdote, whether they be dicking around downtown, hanging with Robin and making eyes at each other, out to eat in what had to not be a date to the stray eye. 

When they were alone, it was madness. The list of places they’d fooled around skyrocketed- the pool showers many times, the quarry both in a car or outside, behind Hawkins high gym the one time Steve had shown him around for his personal nostalgia, the bathroom at Starcourt mall- only because Billy had suggested the storeroom of Scoops and Steve had drawn the line- 

“Robin is like, right there!”

Billy had never felt like this before, though. He’d do shit crazy places for the thrill of it, or just because he was high and dumb, but never because he felt like he was running out of time. This rosy glow had taken over his peripheral vision when it came to Steve. Like in movies when they smear vaseline on the lens. Soft light. 

But the most intense everything else. 

He kind of felt like he was going crazy. Only crazy people deny it, anyway. And he would have lied up and down the block that he was falling for Steve.

Because he was leaving. 

It was just for the summer. 

“Max, get up, we’re going out.” Billy walked into the living room, toward the front door. He was always great at hiding if he’d been crying. 

“Where?” Max sat up off the couch.

“Up, up, get your shoes.” Billy snapped his fingers at her, already walking out the door. 

She grabbed them and ran out to catch up with him at his car, still barefoot.

“Where are we going?”

“Wherever. I could teach you how to drive if you want.”

“I know how to drive.”

“Not according to Steve.”

Max was a little surprised at that. She slid into the passenger's seat, looked around again, always so observant as Billy started the car up and pulled out of his spot in front of the house.

“Are you and Steve friends?” Max asked as they drove. To anywhere.

“I guess. How do you know him anyway? He’s a fucking adult, that’s weird.”

“He babysits us sometimes.”

“The fuck is ‘us’?”

“Me and the party.”

“The party and  _ I _ ,” Billy said, mock imperiously.

Max rolled her eyes. 

Billy was about to ask her what was so great about being a huge nerd because he was actually curious but she cut into his thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends. Is it personal?”

“Yes.”

“Then no.” Billy gave her a saccharine smile. “We don’t have to know each other for more than a summer Maxine-”

“Max.”

“Max _ ine _ . So forgive me for not wanting to have any heart to hearts-”

“You’re gay, aren’t you?”

_ FUCK. _

Billy snapped his head up to look at her. “How the  _ fuck _ do you know that?”

“Dunno. You seem gay.”

“You listen to me you little smartass, if you rat me out-”

“Chill out, asshole. I’m not gonna tell anyone.” She pulled a face at him. “I just wanted to know if I was right.”

They stared at each other for a long, wary moment. 

“Yeah,” Billy said after a bit. “Well, congrats.”

“I won’t tell,” Max repeated, a bit like it was an oath. 

“You fucking better not,” Billy mumbled. 

“Does Neil know?”

“Fuck no. You think I’d be  _ alive _ if he did?”

“Does your Mom?”

“What’s with the ninth degree, shitbird?”

“I’m just curious!”

Billy looked at her head on again, studying. “What, are you? I thought you were dating that Sinclair kid.”

She shrugged. “I am. But I dunno. I have friends that are.”

Billy cocked an eyebrow. “Even in Hawkins.”

Max held his gaze.

“Yeah, my mom knows.” He told her. 

“She’s fine with it?”

“Yeah, she is.”

“That’s cool.” Max seemed unsure. “I can shut up.” 

“Can you? Is that even physically possible?” 

Max rolled her eyes. “Fuck you.”

Billy laughed.

It was impossible to not care about Max.

She had to be his problem.

They found an empty lot. Turns out he was better at teaching people things than you’d expect. 

Billy was trying not to think about how things were getting steadily worse with his dad- god he’d only been there for a month, maybe less- when he was getting off the phone with his mom, lying about that very thing, and fishing more quarters out of his pocket to call Steve. 

Steve didn’t pick up. 

Billy leaned back against the back glass of the phone booth and took a deep breath. God, why did being alive have to be so hard?

The phone rang. He picked it up. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Steve.” Steve sounded uneasy. “Sorry I missed your call, it’s uh-”

Billy heard Steve speak to someone away from the receiver, then he leaned back. “Sorry, it’s Robin. She’s having a rough day so she came over she’s-” farther away “ _ You want me to? You sure _ ?” Then back at the receiver “She said you should come over if you’re fine with a pity party.”

Billy smiled a little. “Sounds great. Be there in a few.”

“Okay. See you.” Billy could almost hear a happy lilt in Steve’s voice. 

“See you in a sec, baby.” Billy hung up, without registering what he’d said. 

Steve registered it, though. 

Out of a wet and wild context, how easily and casually the word had fallen from Billy’s’ mouth-  _ baby _ . 

Steve forgot how nice it was to have someone call you that. And mean it.

Robin was still flushed from crying when Billy showed up and strolled into the living room, hands in pockets, with a: “Rough night, Buckley?”

And Robin laughed through a still stuffy nose. 

  
  
  


Billy was remarkably good at distracting people from their woes and after an hour or so of playing cards and light commiseration, Robin seemed generally better and her mom was coming to pick her up. 

When Robin left, Billy thought maybe he could ask what the distress was. 

“Just, you know, parents stuff.”

“I thought Robin’s parents, like, worshiped her. She’s so  _ smart _ .”

“Yeah, they do, they’re just, you know. Also really rough on her sometimes. Pushing her to succeed and all that.”

“It’s  _ summer _ .” Billy sounded almost incredulous. 

Steve gave a short laugh. 

“Fuck parents. “ Billy mumbled. 

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “Fuck parents.”

“I’m never having kids.” Billy didn't even notice Steve leaning onto his shoulder. He got his arm over Steve’s shoulders like second nature.

“Why not?”

“My parents fucking suck. Especially my dad. But my mom too, I guess.”

“I thought you liked your mom.”

“I mean, I love her, she’s my  _ mother _ . And I like her as a person, I just don't know who thought she should be responsible for a human child.”

Steve snorted. 

“Ok your turn.” Billy poked Steve’s cheek. 

“What?”

“What's up with your family? They’re like, never here. Are they secret agents or something?”

Steve laughed. “I wish.”

They looked at each other again for a second. 

Back home, Billy got love. Here in Hawkins, Steve got stability. One was probably easier than the other. But god, did the lack of one or the other suck.

Steve sighed. “My parents have better things to be doing. I guess. I dunno. Sometimes I think they had a kid just so they could say they had one. I was very  _ planned _ .”

Billy snorted. “I wasn’t.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, shotgun wedding and everything.” Billy laughed. 

“When did your parents get divorced?”

“Oh not for ages, but they, like, ‘separated’ or whatever when I was ten. My mom and I moved to Santa Cruz.”

Steve liked the way Billy said it- ‘sana-cruz’- quick and smoothed out. “What’s Santa Cruz like?”

Billy told him, without realizing really that Steve had managed to actually crack open his head to take a look inside. 

Billy told him about his high school, about downtown where he’d hang out with his friends, the boardwalk, his god-awful job on the boardwalk he’d had for about a year before he had to leave for the summer. How often he’d surf before school or after work-

“How early would you get up?” Steve owned impressed. 

“Dunno. If you get up at five or so you can watch the sunrise from the water. That’s always cool.”

“I got into the habit of pulling all-nighters a lot when I was a senior, and I’d sit on my roof to watch the sunrise.”

It clicked in both their heads that they might have been watching the same sun, the same day, just with a couple hours delay. Neither said anything, though. 

“I haven't been to see the sunrise in awhile. My mom kinda cracked down on me after the college party incident.”

Billy realized he’d mentioned it after he said it. Which meant Steve was gonna ask, and he was gonna have to explain, and that was already terrible.

“What’s the college party incident?” Steve asked him innocently enough.

Billy blew air out puffed cheeks before responding. “I hooked up with this guy who was like, twenty-something. Just because I was like, pissed off, or “depressed” or whatever.” Billy made air quotes around the word ‘depressed.’ “I said I was eighteen, so it’s not so much his fault, and neither of us had a condom and my mom found out like the week after and went kinda crazy and made me get tested.”

“For…”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t…?”   
“No. But you know, close call.”

“Yeah, close call.”

Steve took a measured pause before responding. 

“I’ve done that, before. Not with guys but, like, tried to just,  _ make _ myself enjoy it. Cause I wanted to like, be distracted or whatever.”

“Yeah.” Billy looked up at him.

“Never works, though.”

Billy smiled a little at that. “Never does.”

“You know we never have to do, like, anything.” Steve’s voice was so  _ gentle _ . Billy might’ve hated it if it wasn't actually really really comforting. “If you don’t want.”

Billy got what he was saying. About the day when Billy’d had to tap out. And in general. Because maybe they'd both fucked up like that.  _ Gotten _ fucked up like that.

Billy brushed it off though.

“There’s pretty much nothing we could do that would freak me out, Harrington. Don’t you know all queers are perverts?”

“God, you’re  _ so _ funny.”

“Don’t sass me.” Billy pushed him a little. 

Steve laughed. 

Then he thought about what Billy had said, and he wondered if he’d have the courage or tact to ask the thing he’d only recently started thinking about. 

“Nothing we could do?” Steve repeated, turning his head to look at Billy more directly. 

A smile tugged at the edge of Billy’s mouth. “Yep. Absolutely nothing.”

Then, Billy almost whispered. “What are you thinking of?”

Steve was by himself on his roof watching the sunset and smoking a cigarette that Billy left at his house when he figured out he wanted to have sex with Billy. 

It’s like the idea had been cling wrapped in his head ever since they kissed and now the seal had just been broken.

The next day, Robin asked Steve if he could hangout that Thursday. He said no.

“Look, I know you have a new secret boyfriend or whatever, but you can’t just blow me off-”   
“I’m, uh, I’m not seeing Billy Thursday.”

“Then the fuck are you doing?” She didn't sound mad, just curious. 

Steve hesitated. “I was gonna go,” He grimaced a little. “Get tested at that clinic on the close side of Bloomington?”

Robin looked taken aback, completely sobered. “Oh.” Then “You mean, like... for HIV?” She whispered the last part.

“Yeah.” 

“You don’t think you have-”

“No.” Steve reassured her. “No, just. You know. Want to be sure. Before, I do,  _ anything _ .”

“‘Anything’ with Billy?”

“Yeah.”

Robin grinned a little. “Did he ask if you wanted to have sex?” 

“Y- No! Well, kind of. But that’s not- it's not a big deal.”

“I’ll go with you. To the clinic.”

“What? Robin, no-”

“It’d be insanely stressful on your own. Plus people will probably think I’m your girlfriend or something, which will make it less weird. OH! Should  _ I _ get tested?”

“Robin, you’re a girl. And a virgin.”

“Ok, one, girls can contract HIV. And two, I could just get tested for herpes or something fun. You know it’s just the cold sore virus.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.” Steve laughed a little. 

He let Robin come with him to the little all-white walls and linoleum floors clinic on the edge of Bloomington. Most kids knew where it was. No one would ever admit to going in.

Robin was right, Steve would have lost his mind with nerves, but didn’t, because Robin was beside him, thumbing through a copy of  _ Rolling Stone _ in the waiting room and pointing out various artists statements that Steve didn’t really care about, but listened because she was talking. 

“You ok?” She asked him at one point.

“Yeah, I fail tests all the time,” Steve joked, and Robin laughed. 

“The only test you want to fail.” She squeezed his arm. 

Steve got tested. It was less weird than he thought it would be.

And he got a call the next day- he was clean. 

He probably shouldn't have been as relieved as he was, but there was this weird added relief-pressure; if he wanted to have sex with Billy, he could. 

No strings attached. 

Except of course the very real string that if he did that, there might be no going back. 


	6. Fireworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just so YOU know, nothing bad happens in this chapter. It IS the fourth of july and there ARE fireworks but because this is the Light Timeline nothing terrible happens and theres no upside down or russians business. just some boys smoochin'  
> also fuckin' so like, watch out for that :p

_ July, 1985 _

Steve  _ loved _ girls, had loved them since he was a little kid. He used to leave wildflowers on the desk of the girl who sat next to him in the first grade, but he’d since forgotten her name. 

And liking girls felt normal, and right, and didn’t stress him out or make him feel bad or like he should feel bad.

Because he didn't really feel bad about the stuff he was doing with Billy, but he knew he was  _ supposed _ to. 

Which sucked. 

He knew he was supposed to feel bad about liking the low points in Billy’s voice and how strong his arms were and how the outline of Billy’s dick felt digging into Steve’s thigh when they made out.

And he knew all that because he knew what this was, what could happen. When he was sixteen, he’d run across a gay porno tape at a dodgy thrift store. He’d stolen it, curiosity forcing his hand, making him want to run home to hide out in his basement, lock the door, put on the tape. Steve had seen gay sex on the tv in his parent’s basement and he’d been absolutely enrapt- it made sense, it made so much sense it was hot to watch and he  _ liked _ it and then he was terrified. He might have smashed the tape, ran over it with his then-brand-new car, but it felt like a relic from something, like a cursed and holy object. 

He threw it in the dumpster of the 7-11 near his house. 

And he was disgusted with himself for a week. But he couldn't stop thinking about it, kept getting off thinking about it, until he basically decided to lock the thought in a box in his head and never so much as look at it ever again. 

Because he liked girls. He didn't have to deal with that part of himself when he could just like girls and be happy with girls and ignore the thing that felt missing and have fun-

Then he kissed Billy.

He wanted to bring Billy flowers, like maybe the action would restore the innocence he knew lived somewhere between them. Like a bloom exchanged between boys would mean nothing to be ashamed of. Like wildflowers on a grade-school desk.

Robin was sitting with her legs up over Billy’s in the grass of her sun-drenched backyard. They were just talking, waiting for Steve to pick them up to go use his pool, too hot to get out of the heat. Billy, on his back in the grass, spoke without opening his eyes. 

“I think he’s a better person than me, Robin.”

“Who, Steve?”

“Yeah,” Billy ran a hand through his hair. “I think sometimes if I didn’t have my mom, I dunno, I think I'd be... bad. Or just worse.”

Robin frowned. 

“And he’s… he’s so  _ good _ and he doesn't even do it on purpose. Doesn't even have to fucking try.”

“I think he tries pretty hard,” Robin said on her exhale. 

“How?”

“He used to be a major asshole. Now he’s all sweet. Because he’s trying.”   
Billy just hummed a little.

“And you should give yourself more credit.” Robin kept going. “You’re not fundamentally bad. Life or death, I think you’d make the like, morally right choice.”   
Billy grimaced. “Yeah ok let’s change the subject.”

“Sure,” Robin sat up. “Are you gonna have sex with Steve?”

“That’s up to him.” Billy grinned at her.

“You are  _ so _ proud of yourself, aren't you?”

“I am.” Billy folded his arms. 

Robin picked a clover flower out of the grass to twirl between her fingers. The stem was warm. “When, do you think?”

“Dunno. Did you know he got tested? Such a fucking gentleman. Makes me wanna kill him.”

Robin laughed. “I was there.”

“And you didnt call me immediately? Shame on you.”

“I cant be the middle man for your sex negotiations-”

“Say ‘sex negotiations’ again.” 

Robin threw her clover flower at him. He laughed. 

In an unexpected turn of events, Susan convinced Neil to let Billy stay out on the Fourth of July. No curfew at all. 

Susan poked her head into Billy’s room to tell him. He was surprised- people didn't usually surprise him. And he thanked her more than once. 

“Max is staying over at her friend’s house, so I thought, you know, why not?” Susan smiled at him fleetingly before disappearing back downstairs. 

This was such a weird summer. 

“Max,” Billy asked her the next time they were alone. “What do you think of your mom?”

“Well, she’s definitely my mother.”

Billy laughed. “Yeah I get that.”

Billy was Max’s ride to the fun-fair, but they split up as soon as they got there. They both had people to meet. They parted ways, him with a ‘have fun, loser,’ when she got out of the car and her with a ‘stay out of trouble!’.

Billy had never really been to a small town carnival, but it sort of reminded him of the boardwalk back home. The lights and sounds and smells. Minus the ocean. 

He found Steve quick enough, who was waiting not far from the entrance with tickets already purchased. Billy wondered if he should feel bad for making Steve wait or if he should be flattered that Steve had already bought him tickets. Because there were definitely enough for two people to play any number of carnie games.

“Hey.” Billy said when he walked up. 

Steve smiled at him. “Hey.”

“Is Robin coming?”

“Oh, ha.” Steve made a face. “Robin doesn't, like,  _ observe _ the fourth. In political protest. Also her parents are making her go to a family thing for most of the night and she said she couldn't get out of it.”

“Damn. Imagine having a family life.”

Steve laughed.

This was kind of a date, wasn't it? Like, actually. With the walking around and talking just to each other and the back and forth of Billy trying to pay Steve back for things and Steve refusing with this stubborn smile. 

So when Billy won a goldfish at that duck-ring game every fair seemed to have he gave it to Steve. Who looked way too happy. 

“Don’t these usually die in like three days?” Steve lifted the bag with the little shimmery fish up or eye level. 

“Yeah.” Billy laughed. 

But Billy remembered something about Steve always having wanted a pet. 

They walked around for a bit longer, got whatever they could find that was fried to eat and Billy had to explain what a churro was to Steve who had never even heard of them, and they ran into the kids briefly. Billy was formally reacquainted with all of them via Steve, who had a surprising level of command over the six children, especially a kid named Dustin who said it was ‘really good of Billy’ to hangout with Steve, because he needed ‘bro-time.’ 

Max stared from Billy to Steve to Billy again and raised an eyebrow. Billy made a face back, challenging her a bit, so she smiled and looked away before convincing the rest of the kids to run off. 

“Didn’t know they loved you so much. Thought you were just the babysitter.”

“Well, yeah. But you know. Mutual respect.”

Billy fleetingly thought Steve would probably be a good father nd then thought that was the single most stupid thing he had ever even entertained, and he was probably way too deep in this, so he grabbed Steve’s shoulder to turn him around and start walking again.

Until they hit the line for the Ferris Wheel and Steve suggested it and Billy realized he really couldn’t pretend to say no to this guy anymore. 

Standing in the line for the ride, on the hay strewn ground in Middle America, Billy watched Steve talk with his hands, making his easily readable faces push his own hair back every so often in the multicolor lighted glow of fair. Billy wished he could take Steve back to his version of this, the seaside rides and restaurants and claw games affixed to salt-soaked boards that you always felt like would buckle under your feet if you thought about it too much. And at the boardwalk he could pull Steve behind on one of the many tourist stalls to makeout for a bit, which was dangerous, sure, but not as frozen as this. 

“Sure no one can tell?” Steve had asked him earlier, just loud enough for Billy to hear. 

Billy cast a glance around. “Nah, we’re good.”

Steve told Billy later how much he loved the way Billy spoke. The ‘California-isms.’

On the Ferris Wheel, stuck at the top, the easy conversation from before slowed to a silence. Maybe because of the view or maybe because of the situation itself, but Billy was the one who broke it.

“Do you have a pen?” He asked Steve.

“What?” 

“A pen.” Billy lifted his hand to pantomime writing in the air. “It’s this cool new invention where-”

Steve pushed Billy’s hand away. “I meant  _ why  _ do you want a pen.”

“To vandalize the ride. Duh.”

“I don’t have a pen.”

Billy snapped his fingers in dramatic disappointment.

“What were you gonna write?” Steve asked him.

“Dunno. My name. Or we could do our initials.” Billy shot him a look- so quick Steve might have missed it. “Or I could just draw a dick. The old standby.”

Steve laughed. 

They got off the ride. They left before the fireworks show started.

Steve, as previously promised, took Billy up to his roof- after getting the just-won goldfish into a vase of water in the kitchen. They had grabbed a couple beers and Steve had shown the way out onto the lip of the roof by his window and around to the top. 

Either boy could have guessed right then, up on the roof, talking about nothing; that was it. You can always trace it back to something. But it’s hard to articulate when it first starts happening. 

And it wasn’t the first time two boys had kissed on a roof under summer stars. 

It’s always nicer kissing someone when you’ve started getting used to it, because it gives you that coveted headrush, but even lost in the moment you know what you're doing. 

“We’re gonna fall off.” Steve laughed. 

“We could go inside.”

Steve had an entire complicated and profound war within his own head in a moment. 

Because if he had sex with Billy, he was going to fall in love with him. He knew it like he knew he was alive. 

How far this had gone, how crazy he felt, how utterly obsessed he was- if he took it any farther he's just be willingly handing his heart over- for Billy to do what he liked with it. 

Steve had never really had a lot of self control or consequence anyway. 

He’d trade all the heartbreak in the world for something like this. He wanted to.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed back. “Let’s go inside.”

There’s this thing called skin hunger. Robin told Steve about it once- its the need people feel to be touched. She told him it wasn't always sexual, either. It was just that since you were a person and a mammal and all that you needed to have physical contact with other people. 

Steve said ‘skin hunger’ made it sound like you were a zombie. He was probably just being defensive though, because it hit too close to home. Steve missed being touched. He missed hugs and hand holding and being leaned on and knees touching under tables. 

And even now that they’ve gotten off the roof and gotten inside and he has Billy half naked on top of him, straddling his legs, something about the way Billy’s bare skin is pressing against his, and how Billy’s running his hand up the side of Steve’s ribs, and how he’s kissing him, this long, nodding kiss, feels more like sex than anything ever has. Feels  _ good _ , and  _ correct _ , like glueing pieces of a split mug back together so you cant even see the crack, like drinking tea, like summertime. Steve feels like he could blackout from just the touching. He needs to be touched like this, and no one has understood that in a long time, maybe ever. 

Maybe Billy’s special. Or maybe he just needs that, too.

Billy’s tugging at Steve’s belt buckle, so Steve reaches down to undo it for him. The semi-silence makes breathing into talking. Steve is admittedly nervous as hell, but he wants this so bad. He wants to keep being touched- to keep touching. 

When he looks up, Billy’s grinning at him. Steve grabs Billy’s head with both hands to kiss him again. 

Billy gets Steve’s jeans tugged off, tugs his own off, and Steve practically grabs him back onto the bed which makes Billy laugh. Steve’s never had sex like this before. Not with laughing, and smiling, like they're both in on a joke that will only ever be told right here in this bed on The Fourth of July. Like time belongs to them. Like they’ve found the promised land. The land of milk and honey.

“I’m so into you.” Steve whispers, ducking his head to plaster Billy's neck with kisses. Steve gets a couple choice groans in return, revels in them- he likes this. 

And the whole time Steve’s picking out places for hickeys, Billy keeps running his hands over Steve’s back, almost absently- He likes that, too.

Steve pulls away, mostly to look at Billy, to reorient himself. Billy catches Steve’s head, holds it a couple inches above his. Steve tries to kiss him, and Billy stops him, laughing again, smug as ever that Steve  _ wants _ to kiss him. And after a couple times of Steve smiling and struggling against Billy’s grip he lets Steve kiss him again. 

Until Billy’s tugging off his boxers and Steve realizes he’s never seen Billy naked and it's almost too much to process. He really does look like a greek statue. 

“Like what you see?” Billy asks him, forcing Steve to drag his gaze back to Billy’s eyes- blue even in the dark.

Steve laughs almost disbelieving. “Love it.”

Then he’s kissing down Billy’s chest and between his legs and even licks up his dick which makes Billy’s legs kick a little and he grabs a hand in Steve’s hair to push his head down even further. 

For a split second, Steve thinks he can’t actually eat ass even though hes been thinking about it even though they talked about it and even though hes actually done it before- but that would be too insane- and then he needs to. Like nausea in reverse. He presses his tongue to Billy like he has to know and Jesus- Steve feels overcome with something like facinsation and maddening desire. Like he’s being dragged forward, like he’s dragging himself. He feels like he’s got liquid gold instead of blood, like fear means nothing compared to this- whatever this is. Some sort of religious experience, probably. Steve’s not sure, but he gets leverage under Billy's legs to tip his hips up more and really let his own tongue do whatever it wants, just to touch, to taste, even though it doesn't really taste like anything. 

He can hear Billy moaning, and it goes straight to his dick. Steve’s so hard it hurts- he can't help but touch himself, but he doesn't stop pressing his tongue around, into Billy, digging his fingers into Billy thighs. Steve lets himself believe the only place he's ever lived is between Billy’s legs. 

Billy’s hand that isn't gripped in his hair is on himself, when Steve comes up for air for a second he can see Billy staring at him, breathing out of his mouth, jerking himself real slow, like he never wants this to end. Steve’s never seen him like this before. 

“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty.” Billy tells him, fingertips grazing Steve’s cheek.

“Thanks.” Steve breathes, spit dripping down his chin. “You too.” 

Then he goes down again. 

And before long Billy’s really going to lose it, but he wants it in a particular way and Steve feels Billy grab his hand. “Fingers,  _ fuck- _ use yoru fingers.”

Steve must climb back up from where he’s wedged between Billy’s thighs to get to his side table in seconds. He has lube, he knows the benefits of it, but he gets this little glow of praise when Billy slides a fingernail across his leg and says “Aren't you prepared.”

Steve huffs a laugh. Serious as this is it must still be something unlike anything because Steve gets his fingers coated in lube and slides his hand back down between Billy’s legs and Billy says Steve’s name he’s dying for it- he might be, Steve is too- and Steve is struck again by the idea that Billy is a  _ boy _ , he’s sliding his fingers into a  _ boy _ and he  _ loves _ it, he loves Billy twisting a hand into his hair to tug, loves the words “Jesus Harrington, you’re a fucking natural” loves the praise. 

Steve can feel it when he hits it- the spot he always wondered about, and he can feel Billys hips buck- “fuck yeah just like that’ and he wonders after a second and heady-blacked-out-memory minutes and then a third finger at Billy’s rapid command if this is how he’s supposed to be doing it when Billy’s gasping “Fuck me, I need you in me right fucking now.”

Steve hesitates for a second before Billy pushes his hands away and Steve thinks he's done something wrong but before he can even fully register what’s happening Billy’s pushed Steve onto his back on the bed and straddled his legs and grabs his dick which makes Steve choke on air. 

Billy tips Steve's chin up with his free hand, looks him in the eyes. “I don’t want to be able to walk when this is over, got it?”

Steve nods, left speechless from how fucking hot that was. But he gets his words back in a second. 

“Fuck,  _ Jesus- _ ” Steve gasps when Billy sinks onto him. Real slow, too, because it’s not something you can do all at once. 

Steve knows he likes boys, but once he knows it he shoves it aside immediately so he can keep feeling like hes going to die blissed out and speechless with Billy’s hands on his chest and shoulder, with Billy starting to fuck himself on Steve’s dick like he’s done it a million times. 

But Billy has this slower sort of rhythm starting up and Steve can't even follow it yet- it's like he's in shock from being too turned on. 

Billy grabs Steve’s shoulders with both hands, digs his nails in. “You’re so fucking big,” he says, half laughing, half possessive groan. Billy sinks slightly further and Steve is going to actually die or maybe he’s already dead honestly maybe this is heaven. 

Maybe heaven is the blanked out sort of place Steve’s just gotten to, where fear and excitement and nervousness and shame and desire and consequences and words don't mean anything. Because all there is, is this. All there is, is every point of contact where he can feel his skin touching Billys, inside and out, every breath he can hear- he’s lost track of who they belong to- every kiss he can give like a weight off his chest. Steve thinks he’s the kind of person that always has love and just needs someone to give it to. He has Billy right-here-right-now. Billy literally riding him and moaning and sighing and laughing and letting his had fall back a little and tugging at the forelock of Steve's hair when he leans forward again and Steve thinks he would let Billy do almost anything to him if it means getting to see him like this. Blissed out and made of abandon, wild and free and nothing like Steve has ever met before. 

Steve pushes up a little more next time Billy sinks down and Billy’s mouth drops open. He rakes his fingernails down Steve’s chest which make Steve want to do it again and he grabs Billy’s thighs higher up to take more control and Billy lets him, with this just wicked smile on his face- ‘you’re such a fucking stud- fuck-’ and Steve can barely talk but he loves listening to Billy. Steve must be doing something right because it's like something drops out of Billy’s voice and he falls forward a little on Steve and-

“Jesus god fuck yes oh fuck  _ yes- _ ”

“You like that?” Steve grins he can't help it. 

Billy pushes him into the bed. “Smug son of a bitch of fucking course-  _ Jesus-”  _

Steve pulls Billy’s hips down hard, cutting him off. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Shut up before I  _ make _ you.”

“So make me-” 

Billy sicks his finger’s far enough into Steve’s mouth that he gags on them. And Billy doesn't pull them back out right away either, he leaves them a hair away from the back of Steve’s throat so Steve's eyes are water while he watches Billy bounce on his dick and Steve would moan like nothing else but Billy’s fingers are _ still in his mouth _ .

But Steve doesn't slow his pace. He can feel Billy tightening around him, and can hear Billy see his facial expression shift too quick and hear him whine Steve’s name. 

And Billy doesn't say it all guarded like ‘Harrington’ when he comes all over Steve’s chest. 

He says it like its his dying breath: “ _ Steve _ .”

He takes his fingers out of Steve’s mouth, drags them out over Steve’s lip- which feels chapped and raw. 

Steve can feel Billy’s come hot on his chest and he slows a little, but Billy’s grip on him tightened again. 

“Don’t quit on me now.” Billy whispers' voice jagged. 

“Can I-” Steve tries to ask, already working at a quicker pace, getting to the state of wanting above all else, wanting to know if Billy wants him there.   
“Fuck yeah you can, you fucking earned it, baby.” Billy looks somewhere between pained and ecstatic. 

Steve sits up a little, grabs Billy around the wiast, presses his face against Billy’s chest, fucking Billy too hard for how recently he just came but Billy’s egging him on, a mixute of goading and praise until Steve’s near weak with it and it sneaks up on him when he comes, hard, quite literally balls deep in the sexiest guy he’s ever met in his fucking life. None of this can be real. 

Steve collapses a little back onto his bed. Billy’s still tangled up with him.

Steve hasn't just not had sex in a while, he hasn’t had sex _ like that  _ in a while. Maybe  _ ever _ . 

_ Jesus _ . 

“Talk to me, baby.” Billy murmurs after a minute. 

“God, I can't.” Steve barely has the wherewithal to  _ breathe _ . 

“You ok?”

“I’m ok. So ok. So fucking ok.”

Billy laughs at him. It makes Steve laugh. 

Billy winces when Steve pulls out but almost like he can tell Steve's going to ask him if he's alright, because he says “You really lived up to the rumors.”

And Steve says “there’s rumors about me?” But he can't look up from where his come is leaking out between billy’s legs, destroying his sheets in the best way. 

“There’s rumors about your dick.” Billy laughs, touching a hand to Steve’s neck. Steve feels the contact on his neck like the first warmth of daybreak.

They get cleaned up eventually. 

Just like you can be hungry for something, if you get it, you’re not hungry anymore. Sometimes you don't realize you're starving until that happens. 

Steve half wakes up a couple times before he really wakes up in the morning, and both times he can feel Billy’s skin almost hot against his. Steve can run against Billy’s body, thread their legs together, and even mostly asleep billy shifts to get steve closer. Steve’s being touched, all over. In just the way he likes- like someone cares about him. Like someone wants him. 

And he forgot how absolutely starving he was for it until now. 

He  _ loves _ this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the record, the goldfish is named Hamish, courtesy of @hannahhsolo


	7. Cruel Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter! :D it has one of the first things i wrote for the whole sh-bang

_ “I love this.”  _

Steve said it aloud when he woke up next to Billy on July the fifth. 

Billy laughed at him.

Steve said things like that to Billy all the time now.

_ I love that, love it when you wear that, do that, say that. _

Because he had to let the feeling get air, the feeling he doubted he would say. Steve knew if he didn't at least let pieces of the whole idea out it would consume him more than it already had, and that was maybe too much for him to say, here, now, to Billy, who was only seventeen, and Steve was only nineteen, but he’d been here before. He knew what this was. 

His crazed desire to get inside Billy’s head, live in his skin, breathe his air. 

Or just to be around him, as much as possible, get to talk to him, get to listen to him talk, touch him, however casually, fleetingly, just look at him. 

Steve wasn't sure if Billy knew how he felt or not. Billy liked him, he had said that once or twice, mostly he said Steve was a dumbass, or hot, or that he wasn’t a complete waste of space because at least he was hung like a donkey, but there were also these weird looks Billy would give him when he’d drop something or make a dumb joke that were like, these studying looks. Like Billy could see right through him. It threw him off. Did Billy know how Steve felt? Maybe just, like, suspect it? Was Steve in danger of scaring him off? 

He might have suspected something, mostly because he started taking advantage of offers Steve made more. Billy raided Steve’s kitchen on a regular basis, he let Steve buy him things, mostly because him and his mom were broke, Steve found out pretty quick, and he even started hanging out at Steve’s house for purposes other than sex. He stopped by one time just to hangout. Then more times. Then one afternoon when Billy’s skin was still warm from being at the pool for hours he fell asleep, leaning against Steve’s chest on the couch. Steve guessed it was sunstroke or something, Billy never drank as much water as a person should. Or slept as much. He just generally did not take care of himself. Which was fine, because Steve could do that, remind him to drink water, run his fingers through Billy’s hair until he fell asleep. 

Like now. 

With Billy’s head of gold resting on Steve’s chest, and his breathing lower. Steve was sort of half-watching  _ Magnum PI _ , half leaning into the feeling of just getting to be around Billy. It wasn't even the first time Billy had fallen asleep on him like this, it’d happened a couple other times in his car or at Robins and it was only a few minutes but Steve loved it. Loved it with all his fool’s heart. Billy was ticked off when he woke up - but it might have just ben for show- when he woke up, like ‘why didn’t you wake me the fuck up, Harrington?’ and Steve had tripped over his words to say something like ‘seemed like you needed the sleep’ with his cheeks flushed pink. 

Not that Billy denied him affection. Billy once pressed kiss after kiss all the way across Steve’s collarbone, which made Steve laugh, and pull him closer again, but that had been in the middle of the night on a Saturday, and the same affection had started bleeding into the waking hours or weekdays. 

Steve wondered if Billy would pretend to be irritated when he woke up this time. Steve pushed one of Billy's curls behind his ear idly. Billy shifted a little, still presumably deep asleep, Steve felt his skin hot or cold under his shirt from where Billy had been touching it as he turned his head against Steve’s chest and tightened the arm under his back, pulling him closer. 

Steve had to say something. He could just leave the feeling inside his head, stomach, chest to sit until it went sour. But god he couldn't just  _ say  _ it. Half the truth was better than nothing. So much better. And what did they have? A month? Less?

“Billy,” Steve whispered. “You awake?”

No response. Steve took that as a no.

“I have to tell you something.” Steve said to the dust caught in streams of afternoon sunlight, to the half muted glow of the TV, to the boy asleep on his chest. “And I can't tell you when you’re awake, because I think maybe it would scare you off. Which makes sense. I think I, like,  _ feel _ things, more than most people. Or something. But I feel like I’m lying by not saying it.”

Steve tried to stay as still as possible. 

“ _ I’m in love with you. _ ” He whispered. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, I just, wanted to tell you, but also, like, can’t. So this seemed like a good, uh, compromise. You know.” Steve bent his head just enough to press a kiss to the top of Billy's sleep-filled head. “And don’t be pissed I didn’t wake you up. You don’t sleep enough.”

_ I’m in love with you. _

_ It’s fine if you don’t feel the same.  _

Billy had to work to keep his breathing even. He didn’t want Steve to know he was awake. He wanted to process this well and good on his own fucking time. On his own terms. And he knew Steve wasn't trying to force him to face this or anything, Steve thought he was dead asleep for fuck’s sake. But he said it. He said it out loud. Because he felt like he had to. Like it was eating him up from the inside out. Billy knew the feeling. He hated and loved and knew the feeling. 

He felt like crying. He didn’t really know why. Steve loved him. Why? Why in the fuck was Steve Harrington in love with him? The sex? Maybe Billy just made him feel cool, or screwing him as a rebellion against Steve’s parents, but god, the way he said it. 

Like he meant it. 

Like he’d love Billy until he died, until the sun went out, until the ocean dried up, and then even after. 

Like he loved Billy for reasons he didn’t understand, but didn’t mind. 

Like he didn't want anything from him.

Like he  _ liked _ being in love with Billy. 

Billy let a sigh escape when Steve kissed his head. He didn’t want to have to hold this all right now, he didn’t want to be fighting with himself this hard, so for a few minutes before he actually fell asleep again, all he did was love Steve back. Just to feel it. Just to think ‘he loves me, he said so’ over and over and over and over and get inside his head and live in his heart and breathe his air and be in love. Because he’d never gotten that before, both sides, for no good reason. 

And when he woke back up he wasn’t pissed, he just pulled a face when Steve smiled at him and pushed Steve’s head away with a hand, which made Steve laugh.

_ He’s in love with me. _

_ He said so. _

It's pretty late in the evening when Billy hears his dad yelling at Max from two walls away. The elation of earlier in the day has far from worn off, but it’s definitely compartmentalized real hard when he first hears it. As soon as Billy hears his dad raise his voice he launches himself out of bed to turn off all his lights. He does it on auto pilot, thinking of the least incriminating thing he could be doing right at this very minute, so all the lights are off and he closes his door and he dives in bed as quietly as possible and pretends to be asleep- it’s after nine so that's at least believable. Maybe he could say he's sick or something if worse comes to worst. 

And after ten minutes of pretending to be asleep and trying to not think about the yelling he could hear down the hall he heard his dad’s footsteps and his door creak open a crack, before closing again. 

So whatever had happened it was Max’s deal, and Billy could like, actually just go to sleep now. Because Max wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his real sister, so why did he even care?

God, he did, too. Much as he was trying not to. Because that was him, once upon a shitty time.

He got out of bed, padded across the room to lean out into the hallways, made sure the lights were off up and down the hall. The only light still on was Max’s.

_ She’s not your problem. _

He walked down the hall, quiet. 

_ She’s not your problem! _ _  
_ He leaned a little against the door, truend the knob, pushed it open a crack.

“ _ Max? _ ”

Nothing. 

He nudged it more, walked in, pushing it closed behind him. He could hear her crying.

He walks around to the other side of her bed, to where she was sitting on the floor, facing the window, not looking at him.

Billy put his hands in his pockets. “Mind if I join you?”

She shrugged, still crying a little. 

He sat next to her on the floor, carefu to stay far enough away that she wouldnt spook, and wondered how this was gonna go, wondered if she was gonna tell him to fuck off again, or something, but just as he was opening his mouth, Max turned and launched herself into his arms, threw hers around his neck, pushing him back against the bed as she buried her face against his chest.

“Woah, hey-” he tried.

She started crying again, obviously trying to be quiet, failing just a little, but then Billy didn’t really care. 

This must be how his mom felt. 

He’d been younger than Max, but he could remember the times his mom had snuck into his room and held him, just like this, let him cry, just like this. 

She never told him boys weren't supposed to cry. 

“It’s ok,” Billy whispered to Max, even though it wasn’t, it was so far from being ok. 

But that was what his mom had always said.

“It’s ok, Max. You’re ok.”

She didn’t say anything. She stopped crying after a while. 

_ “It’s ok.” _

Billy was kind of rattled by that last interaction.

Because, maybe somewhere in his head, he’d been hoping his dad was… better. Or less shitty. Or at least to this literal child maybe a little nicer, but god. She wasn't doing too well, was she? 

Skittish and defensive and always out of the house. 

She’s a literal child.

_ You were a child. _

Still are. 

That flipped a switch somewhere in Billy. God, why did priorities have to shift?

He couldn't leave Max here at the end of the summer. Not like this.

Billy went to ask Steve about it. About Max in vague terms, about what he should do. 

Because Steve knew Max and was a good person and all that shit but also because he just wanted to see him. Which he didn't give himself shit for so much anymore. 

When Steve answered the door with a ‘you’re not allowed to be up right now’ and Billy answered with a ‘what, you gonna tell on me pretty boy?’, Billy realized Steve was wearing his sweatshirt. 

They talked in brief about Max. Billy said he was worried about her and Steve nodded and said he was too. And Billy felt better just from that, but he couldn't shake seeing Steve wearing his sweatshirt. 

Steve tucked the neck of Billy’s sweatshirt up over his nose. Then let it fall back down. 

“Why are you even wearing that?”

“Pyjamas.” Steve shrugged.

“You wear my sweatshirt to bed?”

Steve looked confused. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Smells like you.” He said it like it was obvious, like Billy should have thought of it. 

Billy didn’t know what to do with Steve’s honesty half the time. He just said things, like you could say things that you meant without consequence, or like the consequences didn’t matter, as long as you got to say it. 

Billy was leaving. Telling someone you’re in love with them right before you leave forever has consequences. 

Not telling them does, too.

Billy got a month of the thing people wrote songs about. The thing he said was fake in high school. The thing he didn’t really believe in until he heard Steve whisper  _ I’m in love with you  _ on a summer afternoon. He got to crash at Steve’s house, he got little gifts of things Steve had seen that reminded him of Billy, he even got a rose once. Steve got him a rose. He didn't know what to do with it so it ended up drying on his dashboard. And he got to give gifts, too, he found an Orange Fanta bottle cap on the sidewalk and gave it to Steve because he loved orange soda, he got to help Steve babysit the kids once, and all they did was watch TV and play cards because Mike was grounded and DnD was off the table. The goldfish lived much longer than expected, still thriving in the vase Steve had left it in, well fed now. Steve took him to look at fireflies in a field near an abandoned farm house, Billy let Steve drive his car, even if it was just for an hour and he gave Steve shit the entire time. 

But they got to be in love. 

And still Billy had not said it back. 

He didn’t know really if he had it in him. 

Because he was leaving.

Billy got off work in the afternoon on a particularly hot day, and decided to escape to Steve’s because he had fantastic air conditioning in his mini mansion. Also because he wanted to see Steve. But he also sort of felt like he shouldn't, because Steve said he was _in_ _love_ with Billy and Billy didn’t really know what to do with that. Because, less than five minutes after getting to Steve’s house Billy was pushing Steve over the threshold of his bedroom door, onto Steve’s bed, groaning into his mouth when Steve grabbed up his legs more, grinded up against him, started to push Steve’s shirt up until Steve pulled it off altogether, revealing his devoted, pretty smile and Billy couldn't do this. 

“Stop.” Billy pushed Steve back, leaned up off of him. 

“What?” Steve froze.

“We, we can’t. I can’t, it’s- fuck.” Billy bit his lip. 

“What are you-”

“I can’t keep doing this- sleeping with you- if-”

_ -you’re in love with me.  _

_ If I know that you're in love with me.  _

_ If you don’t know if I feel the same.  _

_ It seems wrong, to do this, with you, if it means that much to you.  _

_ And you don’t know what it means, to me.  _

“If what?” Steve asked, tensing.

God, Billy couldn't do this. He’d never felt like this before. He’d been close, close enough to being in love to get out of it as fast as possible. To ghost, avoid, be straight up cruel to people that he could have been in love with- people that might have even been good for him. Because you’re supposed to find someone who's good for you, right?

Who makes you better and all that?

Or, really, someone that can be there while you make yourself better.

_ Don’t you want to prove you’re better? _

“I have to say something, and you’re not allowed to respond, ok?”

“Ok-”

“No, don’t- don’t talk.”

Steve didn't talk.

Billy pulled a face like he was in actual physical pain and he kind of was, honestly, god this was so much deeper than he'd ever meant to be, so much… more. Almost too much. Too much to keep in your head, or heart, or whatever. He was leaving. He was leaving, and soon, it was just-

He thought about saying it with his eyes closed, or making Steve not look at him, he knew Steve would do whatever he said, because Steve was _in_ _love_ with him, which was crazy, crazier still that-

“I wasn't asleep.” Billy managed. “When you said all that stuff about how you like,  _ feel. _ About me. I wasn't asleep.”

Steve’s whole expression crumpled, which threw Billy off. 

“What, what’s with the face?” Billy leaned back a little. 

“You- you said I shouldn't talk-”

“Talk! What’s with the fucking face?”

“I-” Steve folded his arms over his still bare chest. “I didn’t- I shouldn't have said anything, I just- I felt like, I had to and it was dumb-”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Billy cut him off.

Steve looked uncertain. “Aren’t you like, breaking it off?”

“What? No.”

“But I said-”

“I love you too, you dumbshit,” Billy almost snapped at him. “Which fucking sucks, by the way, because, I, like, can’t stop thinking about you. And you’re so fucking annoying, but, you’re everywhere. I see shit that makes me think of you  _ everywhere _ . And I'm leaving! I’m leaving, and I shouldn’t even care about you this much. But, you know, I  _ do _ .” Somewhere in between anger and irritation Billy felt this strange vulnerability creep up on him. But he leaned into it. Choked up a little when he spoke, and he watched this open mouthed smile make Steve’s eyes shine. 

“You love me?” Steve asked after a pause.

“Yeah.” Billy felt kind of defensive about it, for some reason. 

Steve moved closer again. He sort of laughed, he brought a hand up to Billy’s cheek. 

“Really?”

“Yes, why is that such a big thing?” Billy didn’t pull away from the touch. 

Steve shrugged, still smiling like an idiot. “I just- I love you too.”

“No shit.” Billy mumbled. 

Steve kissed him.

Steve had never had sex in the middle of the day before. It was kind of... ethereal... if that was the right word. 

Everything was too-hot and his skin stuck to itself and Billy’s, and pretty soon he was drenched with sweat even though all the windows were open, and sunlight streamed into his room, turning Billy’s skin, his hair, even more golden. He even tasted like it. Nobody was around, not even outside, it was far too hot to be alive, surely too hot to be fucking, but who could stop them. And hard as it had been to say before, here in Steve’s room, in his slice of heaven built out of tangled white sheets white curtains and  _ them _ , they could say it as much as they wanted. Like nothing else was real for a few hours, or at least that nothing else mattered as much as this right-here-right-now.

Steve fell asleep on Billy’s chest, and Billy thought about asking him to run away to California. Billy was leaving in two weeks and he didn't want to leave this behind. He didn't want to leave Steve here, in this nowhere town, and let him become a memory. 

He felt Steve’s breath across his shoulder. 

Billy should probably wake him up, he had work in a bit. 

But he tried to keep the seconds for as long as possible.

Getting through the secretary at the rehab center was more awkward when you were already crying, Billy found out. At least she put him through quick. 

Billy’s whole body relaxed when he heard his mom’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey, mom.”

“Billy! Are you alright?”

“I- I’m fine.”

“Sweetheart, you sound like you’re crying.”

“Yeah,” Billy wiped his face on his sweatshirt sleeve. “Sounds like.”

“Oh, baby.” He leaned into the auditory sympathy. “What’s wrong?”

“Just, you know. Some stuff.”

“It’s not your father-?”

“No, that’s actually been pretty ok.”

“Ok, good.”

A long silence where Billy tried to steady his breathing. 

“Are you homesick?” She guessed.

It was odd, now, being torn between two homes. A place and a person. California, and Steve Harrington.

“You’re going to be home soon.” She was trying to reassure him. “Almost there, right?”

That just twisted the knife. Billy swallowed back another round of tears. 

“You don’t have to tell me what it is, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Billy managed.

He was sitting on the floor of the phone booth, he looked out over the setting sun, so similar to the one he’d seen when he first got here, two months ago. 

Steve was off work in an hour. And he’d be all smiley to see Billy, smelling like cheap vanilla and sugar in his stupid uniform…

“...I met someone.” Billy said. He wasn't sure if he should tell her, but even if she was a shit mom, even if she was crazy, even if she was a trainwreck, he just wanted her to know.

“Of course you met someone in  _ Indiana- _ ” She started.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you’re charismatic! People flock to you.” She laughed. “My charming little man.”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything else. 

“It’s always hard to leave summer romances, baby-”

“I know,” Billy leaned his head forward into his free hand. “But this- it feels, you know,  _ different _ .”

His mom was quiet for a long time. Then, “What’s his name?”

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

“Very preppy.”

“He is.” Billy smiled. 

“Not your usual type?”

“No. But I really like him.”

“And he’s nice to you?”

“Yeah, Mom.” Billy rolled his eyes. “He’s plenty nice to me.”

“What’s he like?”

“I dunno, tall? Kinda dumb. Dorky.”

“Not your type at all.”

“Yeah, but he’s really,” Billy furrowed his brow, looking for words. He hadn’t thought to describe Steve ever. “You know, funny. And he likes things that I like, sometimes just because I say I like them. You know, he brought me a rose? A legit rose. What’s up with that?”

“He sounds sweet. I’d love to meet him.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Maybe,” Billy laughed, tucked a knee up against this chest. “Maybe we could call you or something.”

“I’d love that.”

“Thanks, mom.”

She laughed. “You don’t have to thank me, baby.”

So maybe she really knew how to be a mom sometimes. 


	8. Make-Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof

Steve knew the real end-all-be-all of what he’d gotten himself into. Even if he liked Billy, liked kissing him, sleeping with him, all of that, he still felt a little like he wouldn't  _ really _ know if he liked guys until Billy did  _ that _ to  _ him _ . 

But maybe that as all just Steve trying to rationalize his all consuming desire to try it. At least once. 

But boys weren't supposed to  _ want _ to hand over the reigns. Boys were always supposed to be in control, dominant-

Billy wasn't. Sure he was pretty socially dominant most of the time, but not in bed. Billy let Steve fuck him over the bathroom counter with his arms pulled behind his back and was still arguably more masculine than Steve had ever been. Was constantly proving it, too. So did it just not actually matter?

It might not have, because it was almost like Billy could tell Steve was warming up to the idea, because on a Friday night Billy had slid down between Steve’s legs to suck him off and midway through gotten just handsy enough to pose a question that Steve answered by guiding Billy's fingers right down his back and Steve shuddered, giving it all away when he felt Billy's fingers dipping beneath the crest of his ass, pulling at the skin. 

Steve came almost embarrassingly fast with Billy’s fingers just pressing over his hole, teasingly close to pushing in, but never actually doing it until right near the end, and just one, and Steve was so thrown he almost sobbed, just the once, and came all over Billy’s face, his open mouth. Steve hardly knew what to make of Billy with his mouth open, tongue shiney and white, laughing before licking up Steve’s thigh, just close enough to his dick to make Steve’s eyes water with oversensitivity. 

It was almost like warming up. 

Steve didn’t know if Billy was asleep or not, but when Billy rolled closer behind him and Steve felt him hard in his boxers, felt it pressing up against the crack of his ass, he thought maybe it wasn't a total accident. Steve had to think very carefully about the arousal blooming in his stomach before leaning back into the pressure of it, half a thought pulling him forward. He felt Billy's idle hand on his stomach begin to tense, press against his stomach.

Steve leaned back more, started something close to a slow grind back against Billy’s hard on. He felt Billy angle his head to press a devastating series of kisses to the back of Steve’s neck, his shoulder, felt the heat of his breath. 

Billy slid his free hand down under the back of Steve’s boxers, grinding right back, now slightly lower, almost between Steve’s legs. He felt the heat of Billys dick press between his thighs and couldn’t help another giveaway of a noise from escaping his lips. He’d never gotten to feel this heated trust before in his life, he wanted more. 

Steve leaned into it. He groaned, let his eyes close when Billy started that achingly gentle press against him with a hand. 

“Dirty bird,” Billy teased, barely above a whisper, biting at Steve’s ear. 

“You’re the one who got hard.” Steve whispered back.

“What like you're not?” Billy let his other hand drop down to palm at the tightness in Steve’s underwear and Steve groaned again. 

Steve was more and more used to the feeling of Billy pressing fingers into him, the weird carbonated-flat feeling of this new kind of intimacy. And he was barely used to the electricity that could shoot up his stomach when Billy got it at a certain angle, a certain rhythm, but he wanted more. God he knew he wanted more. Which is why he hooked Billy's hand up by his wrist to look back over his shoulder and say, 

“Do you wanna fuck me?” Breathless, without meaning to be. 

He watched Billy's expression go from deviously elated to almost concerned. 

“Do you  _ want _ me to do that?”

“Yeah.”

Billy licked his lips. “You think you could handle not being in charge for that long?”

Steve felt his stomach twist in a semi glorious way. “I can do that.”

Billy rolled back on top of him in the bed, holding himself up with a hand and working into Steve again with the other with more intensity than Steve had expected, but god it felt so good. He couldn’t tell if Billy was just being careful with him or savoring the experience of having this kind of power over Steve, but he was devastatingly slow about the thing. Steve felt at once like he was melting and just now coming alive as he let Billy push his legs as far apart as they would go, let him leave painfully dark marks across his neck and chest, let himself be finger fucked for what felt like ages before the sour-sugar anticipation of what came after. 

Billy worked him open for maybe half an hour. Steve wanted to cry, but couldn't crack, even a little, he was trying so hard not to come yet-

“C’mon, Billy-” It was practically a whine.

“Hey,  _ patience _ . Don’t wanna hurt you, do I?” God he was so smug. 

“You’re not gonna fucking hurt me,” Steve grabbed at the sheets, let go, dug his fingernails into his palms. “Just fuck me already-”

“You want it so bad, then beg for it-”

“ _ Please _ .”

That hit Billy like a ton of bricks; the total lack of shame with which Steve started to beg. He’d never expected this, this genuine openness, this kind of total, unsubdued desire.

Steve kept going as Billy slowed his pace almost accidentally, and Billy realized that must be torturous for Steve considering the stream of desperate nonsense that followed. 

“-Please c’mon  _ please _ Billy I  _ love _ you just fuck me  _ please _ Jesus fucking  _ christ _ please I’m  _ begging _ you I need it I  _ need _ you to fuck me Billy  _ please-” _ _  
_ “Think you can take me?” Billy whispered, idling working his fingers inside Steve, just enough to get a reaction, barely enough for the tears collecting in Steve’s eyes. 

Steve nodded desperately. “Yes, I can, I’m sure, please”

Billy pressed fingertips to Steve’s lips. Steve cut himself off with a whine as Billy pulled his fingers away, out. 

Billy moved deftly closer, let his dick rub up against the crack of Steve’s ass without much pressure at all. Steve made a whine like a virgin up for sacrifice and much as Billy tried to keep a cool face, Billy had never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted Steve, right now.

Billy kissed him first.

Steve gasped like hitting cold water when Billy first sank into him, slowly, barely anything at first, but Steve relaxed so quickly, felt the indulgence of the thing so fast, he sighed not long after, got an arm around Billy’s neck.

“You good?” Billy asked him. God, the lowest whisper, gravelly at the edges. 

Steve felt the heat of Billy inside him like it was meant to be there. Like nothing had changed and everything had. “Yeah, you?”

Billy bit back a groan as he sunk deeper, unable to fully focus on anything but the heat beneath him. “Fuckin’ great.”

Billy listened to Steve’s near-wince breathing as he pulled out slightly, pushed forward again. Billy had fucked other guys before, but god, never like this. Never a boy in his bed in his house who Billy cared about- fuck that- who he  _ loved _ , like this. He wanted desperately to get at Steve in a way no one else had, a possessive edge to his more real desire to see Steve lose it with Billy still inside him. Billy wanted to hear more of those breathy little sighs.

It didn't take too long for Steve to catch on, to meet Billy’s rhythm, because of course they’d been doing this for ages, just never this way, never with Billy leading. 

The power went to his head immediately. 

“There goes your- hah- innocence, hm?” Billy teased, holding the small of Steve’s back with sure grip.

“What- fuck - what innocence?” Steve wasn't even trying to look dignified, letting his legs fall open as far as possible. 

“Well nobody's ever fucked you like this before, have they?” Billy said, just to watch a shudder hit Steve's body. “Fucked Nancy on this bed didn't you?” Billy kept going, half panting but still loving the way his words made Steve’s face tweak with guilty pleasure. “Other girls too, right? Must think you’re such a fucking stud.”

“More than you at least.” Steve managed, knuckles going white from where he held onto the headboard behind him, furrowed brow breaking a little, a battle with bliss and passion.

“Don’t talk back to me, baby.”

“Why? You want me to.”

Billy grabbed Steve’s leg back rougher for that, fucked him a little harder, got Steve letting his head tip back, his mouth fall open with an unhinged moan, carried out longer by the rhythm of the thing.

Steve had Billy’s heart in his graceless hands. Anything he said, did, it left Billy wrecked. How sexy Steve looked split apart under Billy, the sounds he made while it happened, the shit he said that dug under any facade Billy could grasp at. 

Billy needed this, needed to wreck Steve right back. 

He was almost there, too. He could see Steve’s eyes running out of clarity, until he closed them all together, bit his lip to muffle another cracked whimper until Billy pulled Steve’s lip from his teeth with his thumb, and Steve let his mouth be pulled open, let Billy pull his jaw down, press down on his tongue. “Feel good, baby?”

Steve nodded, desperation and ecstasy mingling in his eyes that used their last bit of focus on looking at Billy like he was the sun.

Billy felt like he was dying. 

Steve had leaned into him with abandon, none of the shame or doubt he’d expected from this high-school-varsity Indiana boy who lived and breathed perfect boyishness. It was as if whatever truth Steve had found in Billy he was unafraid of. As long as it was real, he wanted it. 

Billy had pulled his hand from Steve’s wanting mouth to hold him better, get what he hoped was a better angle while Steve got further and further from cognizance. 

“Fuck yes please yes just like that  _ fuck- baby- _ ”

Steve was still managing to meet Billy’s thrusts, but barely, falling off the rhythm or getting too on top of it, begging for faster, harder.

“So good it’s so good Jesus I love you I love you love you-”

Billy almost fell off of it himself at that, realizing that never in his life had he had someone say ‘I love you’ to him while they fucked and how fucking hot that was just then, how Steve said it like a last dying breath of devotion.

“I love you, too.” Billy said, watched Steve get closer from just the words. 

“Come in me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, fuck yeah I want you to come in me.” Steve reached for Billy’s neck, pulled him closer. “I want it,  _ ple-ase _ .”

Billy felt Steve’s legs pull against his grip, twitch, felt Steve’s hips jump, his breathing get ragged. 

“Billy- I’m--  _ fuck- _ ” Steve gasped out, his back arching, his stomach tensing. 

_ So close. _

Billy got a hand back around Steve, only had to jerk him a couple times before steve was practically crying out and come was spilling out across his stomach and chest, and Billy kept fucking him, just slower, just to make sure he got to ride it out, and watched Steve break and give in and lose it and smile. There was this absolutely dazzling and accidental smile spread over Steve’s lips with a weak and breathy laugh. God it made Billy crazy. He was practically rutting into Steve, fast and twitchy and desperete and Steve was still holding Billys’ head in his hands, letting Billy fuck him hard into the matress until Billy groaned, harsh, and the coil in his stomach finally broke and Steve sighed with the feeling of his insides going hot and pulled billy down right against his chest, held him like he was the only thing keeping Steve from drowning, when, god, wasn’t it always the other way around?

“We should get up.” 

“We?”   
“ _ I _ should get up.” Steve corrected himself. 

“Funny how you think it’s your decision.” Billy pulled Steve closer under the weight of his comforter- it wasn’t too hot yet.

“Ok, if I really actually wanted to get up, you couldn't stop me.”

Billy snorts “Yes I could.”

“Oh yeah?’   
“Yeah.”

“Listen, as, like, carved from marble or whatever as you are-”

Billy laughed. 

“-I could still beat you.”

“If we ever actually fought, I would win.” Billy said, like that ended the conversation.

“Wh- no.” 

“Yeah.”

Steve hit Billy with his pillow. Billy tackled him. They almost fell off the bed.

One day in late July, Steve was going through junk mail when he saw a calendar on the back of a pamphlet, and without really thinking about it, he counted the days. The days until Billy’s birthday. 

Fifteen. 

Steve said it out loud to himself, just above whisper. 

“Fifteen days.”

Like something constricting around his chest, this deep sadness took up roost in his heart. Fifteen days was two weeks and one day. One day and two weeks. Today is that one day so it may as well be two weeks. Two weeks may as well be one. And Steve knew how quick a week could be. 

This thing he told himself was going to last forever in summer; it had fifteen days left. 

“Hey, dingus.” Robin tapped his head. 

Steve looked up from where he’d been staring blankly into the glass of the ice cream case. 

“You ok?” Robin asked him.

“Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat.

She frowned a little. “Is it because it’s August?”

_ August, 1985. _

“Yeah.” Steve laughed a little, like she’d caught him mumbling song lyrics. Like they weren't talking about a piece of Steve's heart getting ripped out. Again. 

“It’ll be ok. Really.” She told him.

“I know.” He rolled his eyes. 

But they stayed looking at each other for a bit. Because Steve wanted to say something and Robin knew it, he just didn't know  _ what  _ to say. 

“It, um…” Steve cleared his throat again. “It’s just. You know. It feels… different.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like. I dunno… I feel really… free. With him.”

Robin nodded, like she understood. Which she did. 

“Sometimes, you know. Being stuck here, feels like I’ll be here forever. Be that guy that never leaves his hometown. Like someone who peaked in high school.” Robin laughed when Steve paused, which made him smile. Her teasing helped a lot. “I just, you know, feel like I still have potential or whatever, when I’m with him. Like I'm not dead in the water.”

“Well, you’re not. So it’s good you feel like that.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I mean. If you don’t ever leave, maybe you did peak in high school,” She's only half teasing. “But if you get a way out, I think you’re gonna be really happy someday. That’s what I wanna do. Leave and never come back and go and, you know, be gay somewhere it desnt matter so much. And go to graduate school eventually. And have dogs.”

“Thanks, Robin.”

“Yeah. We’re not gonna work here forever. Nothing’s forever.”

“Nothing’s forever.” He repeated. 

Maybe that could be the takeaway, since nothing was forever, that eventually/someday/in the future/on his horizon there was something better than this. That was an idea worth hanging on to.

One morning, a week and a day before Billy was due to leave, Steve made him breakfast. Billy woke up - very reluctantly - in Steve’s room at around 9am and realized Steve was already up. When he dragged his ass downstairs he found Steve in the kitchen, skin still pink from the hot shower, barefoot in jeans and a shirt that hung from his shoulders with more grace than Steve had ever held intentionally. 

Things like this sort of broke Billy's heart now. He would get another painful reminder of how Steve was probably like his soulmate or whatever, even though Billy didn't believe in those, but how would anyone ever be better for him than this five-foot-eleven loser looking up at him from the stove. 

“Hey! You’re awake-”

“Are you making me fucking breakfast.” Billy sounded more annoyed than he meant to. He didn't really know how to feel about this.

“I mean,” Steve looked down at the pan of fried egg and bacon, then back up. “I have work in like-” he checked his watch “an hour or so. And, you know,  _ I _ need breakfast. So I was making  _ me _ breakfast, and then I felt like it would be weird if I was the only one eating? But if- you don't have to eat it. This is weird. I made it weird-”

“Just stop talking.” Billy smiled. 

Steve opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded. 

They ate breakfast together before Steve had work. And Billy kissed him before they left.

“Thanks for breakfast.”

“‘Course.” Steve smiled at him. 

“Later.”

“Bye.”

This really was being in love, wasn't it? 

They were walking back to Steve’s car from the only Burger King in a ten mile radius in the middle of the night when Billy inhaled and then said ‘hey do you wanna meet my mom?’ on the exhale. Like it was no big deal. But of course Steve treated it like a big deal. 

“That’s so cool that your mom knows. Do you think she’ll like me? I like to think I make a good impression on parents, but this is like, uncharted territory. What kinds of things does she like? Just so I have talking points-”

Billy started walking away from him. 

“Wait, babe, come back-”

But Steve  _ was _ really good at talking to parents.

“Hello?”

“Hey, mom. It’s me.”

“Hey, baby, how’s things?” He could hear her smiling. 

“Things are good. How’s rehab?”

“You say it so crassly.”

“I am crass.”

She laughed. “Rehab is going well. Excited to see you in a few weeks. Almost there, right?”

“Yeah,” Billy looked up from where he sat on the floor of the phone booth, legs tangled up with Steve’s, who sat there smiling at him. Smiling like he was the world. It made Billy feel warm, tingly almost. “Listen, mom, you remember I was telling you about that guy?”

“Yes! Steve, right?”

_ That’s me!  _ Steve mouthed.

“Right,” Billy pushed him. “Do you still wanna meet him? He’s here, with me.”

“Oh, baby, I’d love to meet him! Put him on.”

Billy pulled the phone away, looking at Steve. “Are you sure-”

“Give me the fucking phone.” Steve reached over and grabbed it from him. 

Billy watched, thinking a million things he couldn't even begin to name, when he watched Steve’s eyes track across the glass on the phone booth, the setting sun warming the colors of his clothes, his skin, his eyes. 

“Hello? Hi! Mrs. Hargrove, it’s so nice to meet you. Yeah! No, yeah. I’m glad too. He is,” Steve smiled at Billy again. “Tell you about myself? Well, uh, I’m nineteen. I work at an ice cream place, I played varsity basketball when I was in high school. No way! He did too? No, he didn't tell me.”

Billy grabbed Steve’s wrist to pull the phone back his way. “You better not be telling him embarrassing shit about me.”

“I’m not! Just that you played varsity. You did so well in sports-”

“I only played the one!-”

“Let me talk, baby,” his mom interrupted. 

“She calls you ‘baby’?” Steve whispered to Billy. 

“Shut up.” Billy whispered back.

“My mom just calls me my name.” Steve sounded a little jealous.

They sat like that for a while, the phone between both of them so they could both hear, talk, and the whole time Billy kept thinking about how charming Steve was in such a  _ good  _ way. Like, good person, good words, polite, kind.

“My mom liked you.”

“Yeah?’

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad. I really care about, you know, stuff like that.”

“Because you’re a total sap.”

“Yes, because I’m a total sap. Do you hear how you talk?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Steve laughed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The day before Billy’s birthday, in Steve’s bed once again in the middle of the night, Steve was barely coming down when it struck him like a punch to the gut that Billy was leaving. 

That day would be the last day they ever had together. That night was the last time they’d ever have sex. Any kiss might be the last. 

He knew Billy was going to leave eventually, but he’d been keeping the knowing at arms length. Which had been easy until now. 

Because Steve was able to count the days on no hands he had left. With someone who he loved in a way he’d never loved before. 

And, he thought dramatically, might never love again. 

Steve grabbed for Billy, caught his shoulders, pressed his forehead against Billy’s chest. 

Billy caught him, let himself be pushed back against Steve’s headboard. 

Steve let himself be held, screwed his eyes shit, felt his nose buzz and throat catch and tried so fucking hard not to cry. 

Tried to just taste Billy’s spit on his tongue, smell the sex and long-set sunshine that hung in the air, live in the warmth that lived around Billy. 

Billy tightened his grip, ran a hand up Steve’s back to hold his head against his chest more securely. Like nothing could ever split them apart. Steve leaned into it; he wanted to believe that.

Because they both know what had Steve fighting tears, and neither wanted to say it. 

They could just make-believe it would be like this forever, the two of them alone in their own nowhere. Because it would hurt too much to think otherwise. 

Steve drove Billy home the next day. He paused, across the street from Billy’s house, thinking that last night was the last time they’d ever have sex in Steve’s bed, and that this was the last time Billy would ever be sitting shotgun in Steve’s car, and this was the last time Steve would see Billy glowing gold in the daylight of an Indiana summer. 

And he was right. 

“When are you heading out?” Steve asked. 

“Around six.” Billy answered, feeling like the earth had split between them. 

Steve nodded. 

They were so much less familiar in this moment. A few hours ago Billy had held Steve against his chest while Steve tried not to cry heartbreak into his skin, and how they were sitting in the car looking at each other like acquaintances. 

Like that would make it hurt less, or some shit. 

“You could stop by before you leave, if you wanted. I’ll be home.”

Billy just nodded. 

“Happy Birthday,” Steve said.

“Thanks,” Billy said back.

Sometimes, a thing is really really crazy, but you have to say it anyway, because you couldn't live with the regret of not saying it. 

And sometimes, when you love someone so much so fast that you're sick with it, you say and do things you would never say or do. Which is why Billy ended up saying, quick and uncalculated: “You could come with me. If you wanted to.”

“What?” Steve looked completely taken aback.

“You could- come with me. To California. Get away from all this small-town bullshit. Live your life and stuff. You’re always saying you wish you could leave and I mean, it doesn't even have to be  _ with me.  _ I could just be your ride-”

“I- I can’t do that” Steve looked like a deer in the headlights again. Like the summer was playing itself backwards. “I can’t just leave.”

“You could.” Billy looked him right in the eyes. 

It was almost pleading, he looked so hopeful. The was the farthest leap Billy could take. Really putting all his cards down on the table. Which he’d never done before. 

But it was like his tongue went sour and the air lost all sweetness to counteract it.

“I… I can’t.” Steve said again. Because he felt like he couldn't. That was insane, to just pick up and leave everything he’d really ever known with some boy who he’d only met a couple months ago. The whole thing looked brilliant on paper, but it sort of… scared Steve. He wasn't ready for that. He couldn't. 

_ I can’t. _

Billy studied him.  _ Can’t or won’t? _

“It’s just, you know. I’m… I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s fine.” Billy looked away. “Crazy idea, anyway.”

Steve could hear the hurt in his voice. Felt it in his own heart. “Baby-”

“It’s fine.” Billy said again, popping the lock on Steve’s car door to get out. “Like you said. You can’t.”

Steve grabbed for his hand before he could stand up. “Come say goodbye?” 

Billy pulled his hand away, wouldn't look at Steve. “Sure.” 

Steve watched him until he closed the door of his house behind him.

When Steve got home from dropping Billy off, the goldfish had died. 


	9. Fly By Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya! trigger warning, /heavily/ implied child abuse. I never do anything explicit, but the aftermath is there. Take care of yourself! I love you!

Billy had a particularly strenuous conversation with his mom a few days before leaving. He had been trying in the past few months to tell her personal stuff less, trying to ask for her opinion less. She loved him, he knew that for sure, but she didn't always say the right thing. Sometimes she said the wrong thing. He’d tell her about Max, and she’d say to stay out of it, keep himself safe. He’d tell her about Steve, and she’d tell him to not get too invested. 

“Billy, I just really think-

“Mom, why do we even have to talk about this-”

“You brought it up!”  
“Right but-”

“You asked for my opinion!”  
“When?! When did I ask for your opinion?”

His mom took a long, guilt-trippy pause. 

“It sounds like you're feeling worked up about this. Let's talk more later.”

Billy did not respond right away, feeling sort of panicky-pissed off. 

“Talk more later, ok?” His mom expected a response. 

“Yeah. Ok.”

“I love you.”

She wanted him to say it back. She said it like she wanted him to say it back. 

_God, why does she always do this?_

“Bye, mom.” was all he said before hanging up.

Billy got sick of his mom being right- because she was right most of the time. If he wanted to play it safe, keep his head down, he’d do everything she said. Listen to her. She was older and wiser but also? Kinda batshit sometimes, and Jesus, why couldn't he just make his own decision? 

He was going to college in the fall, he got himself all those scholarships, got his own jobs, why was he still so beholding to her? 

So against her “don't get too invested, don't be unrealistic” advice, he asked Steve to come with him. 

To California. Because he thought, or he hoped or he wished, Steve would say yes.

And then Steve said no.

And she was right, it wasn't real. Or as real as Billy thought. And the icky cobwebs of it clung to him all day until he called her and she acted like everything was fine, so he did too. 

Billy had a full day of work, but he still managed to have no one wish him a happy birthday until around five when he stopped by his favorite payphone on the way back to his dad’s house to call his mom. 

Who was finally, finally out of rehab, staying with a friend. She’d given him the number. 

“Hello?” She sounded happier. It made Billy smile. 

“Hey, mom, it’s me-”

She gasped and cut him off to sing happy birthday. It made his cheeks go hot even though no one was around. 

“Mom- Mom stop-” He fought a smile. 

“Oh I had to! You’re all grown up- my sweet baby boy.”

“Gross, stop.”

“I can’t wait for you to get back- I’ll take you out for dinner, yeah?”

“With what money?” Billy almost laughed. 

“Oh, you know, we’ll figure something out, I promise.”

Billy was silent for a second. 

“We _will_ figure something out.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s different this time, baby.”

Billy really wanted to believe her. That things would get better and stay better. That she would stay better. And maybe she would. 

“Ok,” was all he said. 

“I love you so much. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Love you, too.”

“See you tomorrow?” She sounded cheerful. 

“See you tomorrow, Mom.”

Billy didn't want to go back home to his mom, he realized, standing in the silent phone booth. He had school as soon as summer was over, but the last month of summer looked to be couch surfing and working and being alone. Without Steve. 

And Billy sure as hell didn't want to stay here, but he didn't want that. 

Steve had work with Robin for most of the day. She worried about him the whole time. Billy was at work, they were at work. But Robin sort of felt like time should just stop so Steve could get this last day of being happy. He barely spoke, distracted as all hell, and when she said ‘do you wanna like, talk about it?” he said “Can’t.” and smiled at her this utterly heartbreaking smile. 

_I can’t. It’s too painful._

Because Steve felt the knee jerk reaction, the protective comfort of his ‘no’ like cotton in his ears, like his head in the sand. He didn’t even have enough money to leave yet. His parents were still keeping his college fund from him and he had friends here- friends who were comprised of Robin and then a bunch of now-freshman. And, you know, a life.

_What life?_

The panic that bubbled just below boiling in the pit of his stomach were two fears: One) fear that Billy wouldn’t come say goodbye, that that had been it, that terrible last interaction in the car, 

And two) that Steve had made a mistake. 

As soon as he so much as _had_ the thought, Steve knew he’d made a mistake, knew it with panic as he communicated the whole thing sudden and rushed after work and Robin just stared at him wide eyed- “He asked you to go with him?”

“Well, yeah, but just- that’s- that’s crazy, right?”

Words almost failed Robin- this was something else. “I, uh. I mean. Only you know that.”

“But I don’t _know_ Robin! I don’t!” Steve looked so urgent and pained and confused it made her heart hurt. 

“He’s coming to say goodbye, right?”

“I think so.”

“So you have until then to decide.”

“But,” Steve tripped over his thoughts, his words. “What if he doesn't come by?”

Billy really hoped his departure from Hawkins would have gone more smoothly than this. He’d survived the whole summer with his dad without getting into any trouble. But of course that wasn't going to last. 

So on his birthday, his final day in this stupid shitty town, when he got home to pack and to leave and to never come back, Max’s skateboard was in two halves on the dining table and it was clear that the damage wasn't an accident. Billy could hear Neil yelling at her from the living room. 

He really could have just gone up the stairs to his room, waited it out, let whatever was going to happen, happen. 

His mom would tell him to play it safe and stay out of it. 

And this old anger caught like a burning coal in his chest, as he thought about what she had done. She had stood there, or left the room, and even if she was always there to wipe away his tears, even if she had taken him and run far away from that house in San Diego with Neil Hargrove, she had never stepped in. 

Billy didn't want to be his mom. 

And he couldn't do that to Max, just look at her and know and walk away anyway. He knew what it was like to _be_ her.

Billy crossed the threshold into the living room. “Leave her alone.”

His dad turned around slowly. “Excuse me?” 

Billy could already feel old panic at his heels, especially as his dad walked closer. . “I said leave her alone. She doesn't deserve your bullshit-”

Billy had a lot of painful memories from early childhood, ones he tried to forget, or ignore, or tell himself wasn't a reason he sometimes startled at loud noises or raised voices. 

Billy’s mom had tried to drown all the memories out with gentle words and happy memories of his big-kid and teenage years, with birthdays he liked and cause and effect other than capital punishment. 

Billy wondered if the break between then and now made him stronger or weaker in this instance. 

He felt like a little kid again, in the gross, defenseless sort of way. Like all the time he spent being a person meant nothing when faced with his father again. 

But he didn’t want it to be Max facing it on her own. 

And now his lip was bleeding. And his cheek hurt. So did his head. His wrist had probably burned or bruised from being twisted too hard. And he was trying so fucking hard to convince himself he didn’t do anything wrong, and that he wasn’t a disappointment, or useless, or bad. But it was so hard because one of the things his dad told him is actually true. One of the nasty words Billy wore like armor on the daily so when his dad called him a dirty faggot he sneared and said “Say it again! Ask me if I give a shit!”

Which was not the safest he could have played it.

He tried not to think through the next bit. 

And now Billy was locked in a closet. 

Billy leaned his head against the back wall of it and winced. The irony of the place he was stuck in was not lost on him. And this wasn't so bad, probably, because if anything he was safer in here. He just didn't want to have to see the power trip look on his dad’s face when he let him out sometime the next morning. Because it wasn't the first time his dad had locked him in a closet, it just was the first time in a _while_. 

Billy didn't cry, not for lack of wanting to, but from exhaustion. He was so tired. So fucking tired. He knew from experience that when you get the shit beat out of you crying usually makes everything hurt more. A couple tears escaped but nothing major, nothing that made any noise. He couldn't even straighten his legs all the way sitting down. So fucking tired. 

His mom was right twice. He was heartbroke and beat up but at least he made his own fucking mistakes. 

At least he did what Steve was always brave enough to do, speak the truth and face the consequences. 

_Steve._

Steve probably thought Billy left without saying goodbye. 

Billy didn’t want to think about that. 

Billy opted to lay on his back and put his legs up against the wall, and try not to _think_. Not about that shit his dad had said, not about Steve, not about anything. 

But god that was hard when he heard his dad’s footsteps across the floor and up the stairs. He tried to swallow the pulse in his throat. But nothing happened. His dad went upstairs and stayed there. 

Jesus, how stupid could Billy be? 

He closed his eyes, and thought about all the times his mom had told him to play it safe. 

He never played it safe. 

Steve tried to convince himself that Billy hadn’t left without saying goodbye. 

He was supposed to hangout with Dustin tonight, he was supposed to be there at seven, because Billy was supposed to show up at six, and Steve hadn't wanted to be alone after the love of his life disappeared into the horizon, but six came and went and Steve was still pacing in his room waiting for...something. 

He still hadn’t decided yet either, to stay or go. Both felt wrong depending on what part of his brain he asked, and he wasn't good at asking himself questions to begin with. But maybe the decision had been made for him.

At seven he couldn't take it. Maybe Billy hadn't forgotten him. Maybe he was just running late. Maybe his car broke down. Maybe-

Maybe just something _else_.

Because what if that was it? That was his last chance at true love or whatever, even though he was only nineteen that really felt like it. His chance to get out of here and be happy and live-

He grabbed his jacket from where he’d tossed it on his bedroom floor and ran down the stairs. 

He was just pulling open the front door when he heard his mother's voice.

“Steve?”

Steve turned around. His mother was staring in the doorway to the dining room, in a black evening gown, hands on hips.

“Hey, mom, didn’t know you were home.”

“We have a dinner in a couple of hours.” She had a look Steve hoped he was recognizing wrong.

“Cool. Uh, have fun-”  
“Steve, honey, your father and I need to talk to you.”

“Sure,” Steve felt anxiety in the pit of his stomach. “Totally, I just need to go real quick-”

“Go where?”

“A friend- Billy’s leaving town tonight-”  
His mother crossed to him, closed the door. “That’s actually what we need to talk about.”

No. No no no _please_ no. How did they even know? Who told them? Had they found something? Saw something?

Steve followed his mom into the dining room. His father was already sitting at the head of the table. Steve could feel his pulse at the surface of his skin, like it clung to him too hard. His mom gestured for him to sit but he didn't want to. He wanted this conversation from hell to happen on at least some of his own terms- and what did they want to talk about was what he asked?

Him. They wanted to talk about their son, and the company he chose to keep. 

What did they mean company?

Billy Hargove. 

What about him?

They had been caught.

Steve never fought with his parents. Nobody in their house ever so much as raised their voice. All serious matters came across in terse phrasing or guilt trips and Steve always just took whatever bullshit was handed to him. It was easier in the moment to just nod and agree and do whatever they said they _felt_ like he should.

So when Steve didn’t do anything and Steve’s dad actually yelled at him from across the dining room table, both of them on their feet, he felt like he was long overdue in standing up for himself. 

“-And now you mean to tell me you’ve been running all over town like a _deviant-_ ”

“I’m not a deviant-” Steve felt his blood boiling.

“You’re sure as hell acting like one. Who is this Billy Hargrove kid anyway?” His father turned away to look back at his mother, taciturn, sitting and watching Steve. “Some freak from California just waltzes in and thinks he can corrupt-”

“I’m not corrupted-”  
“Stop interrupting me or I swear to god-”

“You’ll what? What’re you gonna fucking do?” Steve held the back of the chair he'd been sitting in minutes before, his knuckles turning white. 

“Whatever it takes to-”

“Takes to what? Un-gay me?-”

“I didn’t raise you to be a fucking _queer-_ ”

“You didnt raise me, _at all_ -”  
“That’s enough.” Steve’s mother cut both off. 

This whole time. This whole fucking time, she hadn’t spoken. Hadn't said a word, and Steve had been hoping maybe it was because she saw his side. Maybe, a chance in a million, she agreed with him, loved him, sided with him. Because honestly she was the one out of the two of them that had moments of acknowledging Steve's existence beyond being an accessory to his parents success. She talked to him like he was a person with thoughts and feelings, not just a checkbox in his parents’ life plan. 

But she didn’t side with him.

“You’re too old for this, Steve.”

“I’m- what?”

“You know, we’ve let a _lot_ of things go in the past, but this is a step too far-”

“What _things-_?” Steve tried.

“We do so much for you. Give you so many opportunities. You come from a _good_ family. You don’t understand how it hurts us when you squander those opportunities- when you make choices like this-”

“ _Choices-_?”

“This ends now. I don’t want to hear about this kind of thing in the house ever again.” Steve felt like a scolded child, the way his mom was talking to him. “You’ll stay home for the night if you know what’s good for you…”

Then she said something about Steve making them late, and something about Robin possibly being a bad influence, but Steve wasn't really listening. Everything sort of felt like white noise compared to the sour, consuming anger in his chest. Steve thought about saying he was an adult, that he wasn't a disappointment or a disgrace or a deviant or anything. But he didn't. He just turned and left the dining room, up the stairs, down the hall into his bedroom. 

And planned to stay home. Because he always listened to his stupid fucking parents. 

He got into his room, and actually punched the door in sudden and fleeting frustration, which was dumb because it was really expensive wood and he just chipped the paint and bruised his knuckles. Since no one was around he ended up crying a little, trying not to because he hated crying and he hated the sickly pressure in his chest that was probably shame. Probably fucking shame, because his parents always made him feel ashamed, inadequate, small. Like whatever he did he was always going to be just their son. 

And now he was their disappointment; he heard the front door shut from downstairs. 

God, he wished he was with Billy. 

But Billy was probably long gone. The idea took hold easily with the scores of insecurity fresh in his brain. He slid down the wood paneling of the inside of his door, hugged his knees to his chest, and actually cried. Not a lot, not sobbing or anything. Just tears that made his cheeks feel cold with how hot they were.

Steve had made a mistake. He should have left this stupid fucking nowhere and his dumb carbon-copy life and he didn’t. And Billy was probably long gone.

_He left without saying goodbye._

Billy, pinching the inside of his arm to see if it would distract from the pain of his face (which didn't work), kept thinking about Steve. 

And thinking how he shouldn't be thinking about Steve. 

And how it was useless thinking about Steve, because Steve probably thought Billy had left him, without a word, without a last kiss, a last ‘I love you.’ Steve was probably wondering if Billy had ever even meant either of those things. And Billy might have never meant them before, but he meant them now. 

And he just wished Steve would come with him. To California. He wished they could ride off into the sunset together, which was ridiculous, because they were so young, and Billy knew first hand that love never sticks, but Jesus Christ he wanted it to. 

But Steve had said no. And Steve probably hated Billy right now.

Hours later, when he was close to falling asleep, and sure most everyone was already out cold, Billy heard light footsteps in the hall room, crossing to the closet. 

He could guess who it was. He heard her breathing on the other side of the door. 

Then a piece of paper and a pencil slid under the door. 

Billy sat up to pick up the piece of paper. 

_Thank you,_ Max had written on it.

Billy flipped it over, wrote, _wish I could have saved your board,_ and slid it back. 

He could almost hear a small laugh on Max’s breath. She tapped the first part of shave and a haircut against the cloister door. He tapped back.

Billy figured that’d be it for the events of the evening.

Firgured this was the unstaifying ending to his beyond hsitty childhood, because he checked his watch, and it was almost midnight. 

His birthday. Locked in a closet with a split lip.

Max slid another note. 

_Happy Birthday._

Billy smiled at it. Oh jesus then he had an idea.

_Do you still have that radio? I need a favor._

Dustin was admittedly kind of pissed that Steve handy so much as called him back. They’d been planning this movie marathon for maybe two weeks and Steve was supposed to be here like an hour and forty eight minutes ago. So when Max radioed Dustin he couldn't keep the irritation from his voice. 

“Dustin? Dustin do you copy? Over.”

“Hey Max, I’m here. Over.”

“Have you heard from Steve?”

“No,” Dustin scoffed a little. “And he was supposed to be here ages ago-”

“Dustin, listen. Billy and I are in a bit of trouble, and I need you to get Steve. But I have to tell you something, and you have to swear you won't freak out.”

“What could you possibly tell me that I would freak out-”

Steve really wished he could sleep, but he wasn't making a ton of effort to. He was just fully clothed, laying on his back in bed. Hating being alive. Hating his parents. But he couldn’t hate Billy, as much as he wanted to try. 

He just regretted not saying yes to going to California, because that was it, wasn't it? That was his chance to get out of this stupid fucking town away from his stupid fucking parents and he disappointed just like he always did-

“STEVE.” a voice through a megaphone-

Was that fucking _Dustin_?

Steve got up out of bed, crossed to open his window. Sure enough:

“STEVE OPEN YOUR WINDOW.”

“Dustin? Robin?” He called back, sticking his head outside. What time was it? He looked to his bedside alarm clock- 11:39pm. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Billy’s in trouble! Max radioed!” Dustin called up. 

“He didn’t forget about you, big guy!” Robin called up. 

Near-crushing relief washed over Steve, but it was quickly replaced with concern- what kind of trouble?

“What happened?” He called down.

“We can explain on the way, but listen.” Dustin stood straighter. “Steve, I have something I need to say to you.” 

“Robin, what-” Steve appealed to her, but Robin just pointed enthusiastically at Dustin.

“Let the kid talk, Harrington.” Robin sounded much more serious than she looked, standing just behind Dustin.

“Steve,” Dustin looked so heartfelt. “We haven't been friends for very long-” 

“Dustin, the hell are you-”

“But you've taught me so much about life in such a short period of time-”

“Dustin-”

“No, I need you to listen to me-” Dustin took a noble tone, while Robin was trying desperately not to laugh. “You've taught me about life, and what it means to be a man, but most importantly, you've taught me about _love_.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Steve leaned his elbows on the windowsill, trying not to grimace.

“And I know, because of you, that love is the most important thing in this world! So no matter who you love, girls, guys, I support you! Love conquers all!”

“He practiced that on the way over!” Robin called up before turning to the literal fourteen year old at her side. “I think you killed it.”

“Yeah,” Steve pulled both hands through his hair. “Thank you for that, Dustin.”

“We’re here to help you save your significant other! We’re breaking you out-”

“The door’s unlocked.” Steve cut in. God this was the most socially painful moment of his entire life.

“What?” Dustin called back.

“The door. It’s unlocked. It has been. You could have just knocked and I could have let you in.”

“I think this was better.” Robin called up, grinning. 

“Just meet me at the door.” Steve called before running back downstairs. 

Hope restored.

The message for Steve was _supposed_ to be that Billy didn’t leave without saying goodbye. But the takeaway everyone- Steve, Robin, and Dustin- got from that was that they needed to break Billy out of his house before morning so he could leave on his own terms. 

And Steve could go with him. 

Dustin was already coaxing as many love-story details about Billy out of Steve as he could while Robin watched smugly on when it came to light that Billy had asked Steve to run away with him and Steve had said no but regretted it terribly and now here they were. 

“He asked you to go with him?” Dustin asked Steve as he threw all his crucial belongings into a suitcase. 

“Yeah, but-”  
“God, that’s so romantic.” Robin mumbled, same reaction as before. 

“And you said no?” Dustin kept no dig from his voice.

“Well I changed my mind, didn’t I?” Steve defended himself. “I’m not a total idiot.”

“So… you’re leaving?” Dustin asked. 

Steve stopped packing. Turned around. 

“I mean,” Uncertainty overtook Steve again. “You think-”

“I’m so excited for you, man.” Dustin grinned. “You know we were all pretty worried when you didn't get into college, but this? This is fucking epic.”

“You have to come back and visit, you know.” Robin told Steve, melancholy and happy at once.

“Yeah, obviously.” Steve smiled.

“But how in the hell are you going to get the money to pull all this off?” Robin asked.

Steve already had an idea.

On a hot August evening, fed up with his homophobic rich and terrible parents, Steve broke into the safe in ther bedroom and stole approximately five thousand dollars. It was impulsive and might have turned out terribly if his parents ever decided to press charges (which they never did), but it was well deserved. And it made Steve feel Better. Like he was finally doing something- finally breaking the right rules. 

Robin and Dustin both agreed, Steve’s parents owed him, and it was way less than college would ever be anyway. 

Five thousand could finance a good chunk of time in California for Steve, for both of them, even with Billy in college. Maybe Steve could go to a community college nearby- his head was overflowing with ideas that all boiled down to hope for something better than this. 

Something better within reach

Around 1am outside the Hargrove/Mayfield house, Steve hesitated and looked at Robin, riding shotgun. 

“I'm- this is crazy, right?”

“Sure, but I mean. Kind of a once in a lifetime deal. Far as I’m concerned, if you’re an adult with a car and ten bucks you should do whatever you want. Fly, be free.”

“I love you.”

She laughed. 

“Also you’re in love-”

“Thank you for that, Dustin.” Steve cut him off, but Dustin just grinned at him. 

Billy didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up to a scratching noise and hushed voices on the other side of the door. 

“... you sure you know what you’re doing, dingus?” Was that Robin? Why was Robin here?

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve done this loads of times.” _Steve._

“Can you guys keep it down?” Max hissed. 

Billy sat up off the floor of the closet, he pressed a hand to the inside of the door. It took every piece of self restraint in him not to call through the door to Steve, that might be too loud- but god he wanted to. It was like the snap-back of a rubber band, if that would feel good somehow, like he’d gotten his footing back. Like no matter what he ever got told about himself, about the world, he had this one piece of reality- this love. 

Jesus, Steve really was a knight in shining armor sometimes. Like he couldn't even help it. 

The lock clicked. 

“Fuck yeah, think we got it-” Steve pulled the door open, locked eyes with Billy. “Jesus, what happened to you?”- and then Steve was pressed back into the opposite hallway wall when Billy pushed out of the closet to grab Steve around the waist and kiss him- too overwhelmed to do anything else. 

“Gross.” Max made a face.

“Oh my god it’s like a romance novel.” Robin nearly gasped.

But the kiss didn't last long.

“Ok, outside, everybody outside.” Max started pushing them towards the front door, glancing nervously towards the staircase- a cue Billy recognized.

Light from the living room broke the dark night apart as the front door was pushed open. 

“You guys got out ok?” Dustin asked when Max ran back to where he was, sitting on the hood of Steve’s car relaying the events of the night to the party- directions given by Steve and Max. 

“Yeah, but we gotta move quick-”

Steve was murmuring to Billy: “ I just have to get my stuff into your car-”

“Wait, what?” Billy grabbed his arm.

Steve looked up. “I- I’m coming with you. If the, uh, offer still stands.”

Billy smiled, one of those smiles that felt like the air knocked out of your lungs, the one that made your throat hurt for not crying when you might, and he couldn't let go of Steve’s arm, because this didn’t just mean what he hoped it did, it meant _more_. “Yeah, but, but wait, I don’t have anything other than my car, no house, no money-”

“That's fine, I, uh,” Steve had this shit-eating grin on his face “I, sort of took five grand from my parents-”  
“I’m sorry, you fucking _what_?” Billy was already grinning. This lunatic teenage boy was definitely right for him.  
“It’s true,” Robin told Billy. “He broke into his parents’ safe right before we left.”

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Billy told Steve.

“You’re a terrible influence.” 

“Ok, stop being cute, you guys have to bail before anyone wakes up.” Max was still decently urgent. 

“Ok, Robin, you can take Dustin home in my car-” Steve started

“What about Max?” 

“What do you mean, ‘what about Max’?”

“I’m not leaving her _here_.” Billy insisted. 

“Where can we take her?”

In a brainstorm that lasted less than a minute, and ended with Dustin radioing the entire rest of the party for input, Max decided to go to El. At Hopper’s cabin.

“What, like the chief of police?” Robin asked. “Couldn't that be like, bad?”

“It might be good.” Billy thought it as he said it, thinking of the lawsuits that had gotten his parents divorced- the one downfall being that they didn't have enough proof.

A close friend in the chief of police might mean Max had a fighting chance. That Billy might have one too if he wanted his father’s money- make it as close to fair as it would ever get.

So Steve delegated Robin to take his car and take Max to Hopper, explain whatever they felt needed explaining, get Dustin home safe too. Passing the mantle of babysitter.  
And then the moment came where everyone realized they had to say their goodbyes. 

Dustin tackled Steve and wouldn't let go for a bit so Robin had to just hug Steve around Dustin, which made them both laugh. Billy stuck out his hand for Max to shake and she took and then said “Can we just hug?” and he said ‘sure.” and she hugged him again. 

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure thing, kid.”

Where Billy knew what it was like to be Max, Max now knew she wouldn't be in this forever. It’s more reassuring than anything to see an option for your future that you actually like, no matter how far away it is. 

It was still hot at night in Indiana, and you could hear crickets before and after the slamming of two car doors. 

Robin, Dustin, and Max waited on the curb to watch the Camaro’s headlights disappear, before getting in Steve’s car to take Max to hopper, and get dustin and robin home.  
  


The next morning, Steve’s parents were down five grand from the safe in their room. Billy, his car, his things, and his, well, Steve, were all long gone. 

At first both sets of parents tried to keep the whole thing under wraps but that didn’t last long, thanks to Robin. She really knew how to manipulate the minds of the masses.

Pretty soon, everyone in town knew Steve Harrington, former Golden Boy of Hawkins High, had run off to California with his gay lover and a good amount of his parents money. 

Though the Harringtons never sought legal action towards getting their money back, probably because they had always been averse to ‘causing scenes.’ One was caused anyway, people wouldn’t stop talking about the spectacular nature of their son’s departure from the town.

Pretty soon after both families had been decently disgraced, Susan divorced Neil and stayed in Hawkins with Max.

Robin turned out to be a better babysitter than she thought she’d be, even if she can't cook as well as Steve could. 

So everything turned out ok and everyone's pretty happy.

But no one would ever be happier than the two boys driving west on someone else’s budget.

Steve kissed Billy just as they were passed the Hawkins County Limits sign, pushed himself over the divide in the front seats. 

Billy laughed as soon as he pulled away. “Don’t make me crash the car.”

Steve started laughing at that. Then, still smiling like nothing else, “Happy Birthday, baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! thank you for reading this! it means a lot to me :) i just wrote it on a whim but people seem to like it and im so grateful aaaa so thank you! I hope you have a good day/week/year cause u deserve it!  
> special thanks to @keysmashdnp for being my love, my light, my editor  
> and @grabmyboner, for dealing with my 3am ramblings and proof reading  
> love u guys


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